


To Be Human

by Fangirling_FTW



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bunker Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 86,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Winchesters were able to close the gates of Hell at the end of "Sacrifice"?<br/>What if the angels never fell from Heaven?<br/>What if Sam and Dean were able to finally consider the possibility of settling down?</p><p>With a newly human Cas, a mystery woman hunter, and a bunker that's now become a home, maybe the Winchester boys can finally have that happy ending they deserve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. The Other Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome guys!! This is my canon divergent fic I've been working on ever since I finished "Fix Me, I'm Broken". I'm mostly writing this one for myself, as I know a lot of people don't usually like it when the boys are paired off with OC's, but I wanted to write this character, so I did.  
> I'm going to try and update every three weeks or so, no promises, but I'm going to try :)  
> Please leave me some comments and Kudos, I love hearing from you lovely people! XD

_**Dean** _

 

“I’m not here to fight you, Castiel.”  Dean spins around, his heart sinking.   _ He knows that voice… _ “Not anymore…”  Naomi is standing there, still done up in her pant suit, but looking slightly panicked.

_ “Dean?  Dean?”    _ Dean ignores the phone in his hand.   _ Not now, Kevin. _

“Where is Metatron?” Cas demands, tense as a guitar string.  Shit is about to hit the fan if Dean doesn’t do something about Cas now.

“He told you he was going to fix heaven, didn’t he?” Naomi asked.  “Murdering a nephilim, cutting off a cupid’s bow- it’s a lie, all of it.”  Dean looked between Cas and Naomi.   _ What in the hell… _ “I’ve been in his head-”

“You’ve been in  _ all  _ our heads.  That’s the problem,” Cas snapped.  

“No, Castiel, you’re wrong.”  Dean stared at Naomi.  He didn’t trust her, not even remotely, but there was something in her voice, something in her eyes… It was hard to fake that kind of panic.

“This is what you do, you twist things,” Cas spat.  Dean took a step towards Cas, his friend’s focus completely on the Angel in front of them.  “I’m trying to  _ fix _ Heaven.  Metatron is trying to  _ fix _ heaven.”

“Metatron isn’t trying to  _ fix _ anything, he’s trying to break it.  An act of revenge for driving him away.”  Dean glanced at Cas, and saw he wasn't buying what Naomi was selling.  Dean hated to admit it, but she did have a point, Metatron didn’t strike Dean as the type to put himself on the line for a noble cause.  He'd been a reclusive hermit not even two months ago.

“Break it how?” Dean cut in.

“Dean-” Cas glared at him to stay out of this, but Dean ignored him.

“Expel all angels from heaven, just as God cast out Lucifer.”  Dean could feel Cas’ anger but it was overshadowed by the bad gut feeling from Naomi’s announcement.   _ That doesn't sound good. _

“Cast you out? To where?  Hell??”

“No, here.  Thousands of us walking the earth-”  Tears start to fall down Naomi's face.

“Lies!” Cas spat, raising his angel blade.

“Wait!” Dean shouted, grabbing hold of Cas’ arm.  If there was a  _ chance _ Naomi was telling the truth, they needed her.  Naomi’s eyes fill with remorse, and Dean grudgingly starts to believe her.  Cas’ arm relaxes under his hand.

“Our mission was to protect what God created… I don’t know when we forgot that.”  Her gaze focuses on Dean.  “I want nothing more than to see you shut the gates of Hell, but I told you that you could trust me.  If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die.”  Dean feels his world come to a screeching halt.  

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snaps with fake bravado.  He knew it was wishful thinking, that Sam would make it out of this, but he had damn near convinced himself, and Sam.  Hell, he’d all but forced himself to forget the possibility that his brother wouldn’t make it, for sanity’s sake.

“I saw it in Metatron’s head.  It was always God’s intention, the ultimate sacrifice.”   _ Well that does sound like God, the smug son of a bitch.   _ She turned her gaze back to Cas as Dean’s brain scrambled to figure out what to do.  “As for you Castiel, I beg of you, stop this path.  Metatron has been neutralized.  If you want back in, truly, I will listen.”  Then she was gone.  Dean belatedly remembered the phone in his hand, pulling it up to his ear.

“Hey, right now, talk to me!  Is she lying?!”

“I don't know-” Kevin stammered.

“We'll find out!”  He hung up and spun towards Cas.

“She’s lying,” Cas insisted, though he didn't sound quite as sure as Dean wanted him to.  That settled it.

“Take me to him,” Dean snapped.

“Dean-”

“Take me to him, now!”  They were so close,  _ so fucking close _ to finally sending all those demonic sons of bitches back to hell for good, she had to be lying, she  _ had to be _ .

But if she wasn't…

Cas seemed uncertain as he reached out for Dean’s shoulder, the bag with cupid’s bow in it dangling obscenely from his wrist.  The now familiar swooping sensation, followed by the sharp pull from his shoulder and he was looking up at the church where Sam was curing Crowley.  He started for the door, afraid of what he'd find.

“Dean!  I'm not wrong, I'm going to fix my home,” Cas insisted.  He looked back at Cas, his friend who always tried so hard to do good, and had been wrong so many times before.  For a second, Cas’ eyes seemed uncertain, but he fluttered away all the same.

“Cas!”  He knew it was fruitless, but he called out to him anyway.   _ Dammit Cas, I need you here!  I need- _ his prayer was cut off when he heard Sam grunt in pain from inside the church.   _ Please, Cas, please listen to me for once in your god damned life,  _ he finished as he rushed inside.  His brother was standing over Crowley, arm glowing and hand bleeding.  

_ If she wasn't lying…  _

Dean couldn't take that chance.

“Sammy, stop!!”  Sam froze, confusion and pain on his face.  “Easy there, okay, just take it easy.  We've had a slight change of plan.”  His heart and his mind were racing, searching for the words to convince his brother to stop, but he desperately tried keep a calm facade.

“What?” Sam gasped, “What’s going on?  Where’s Cas?!”

“Metatron lied,” Dean said hurriedly.  His brother’s fist was  _ so close _ to Crowley, there'd be no way Dean could stop him from here.   _ Dammit, Cas, where are you? _  “You finish this trial?  You're dead, Sam.”  Sam glanced around the church, and just as Dean thought he was going to listen, he turned back to his brother, confusion in his eyes.

“So?”

Dean’s heart stopped before sinking into his stomach.

_ No, Sammy, please no. _

“Look at him!”  Sam’s voice was filled with urgency as he pointed at Crowley.  “Look at him, look how  _ close _ we are!  Other people will die if I don't finish this!!”  Dean’s scrambling to come up with  _ something  _ to say to convince Sam to listen.

“Think about it,” he said, stepping closer.  “Think about what we know, huh?”  Sam was practically falling over, falling apart before Dean’s eyes.  “Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a hell hound!  We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here.”  He took a deep breath, hoping Sam would see how much he meant his words.  “But I can't do it without you.”   _ I need my punk ass little brother. _

“You can barely do it with me,” Sam chuckled darkly.  “I mean, you think I screw up everything I try, you think I need a chaperone, remember?!”  Dean could have kicked himself, his stomach giving an unpleasant lurch.

“C’mon man, that's not what I meant-”

“No, that's exactly what you meant.”  Sam pointed at the confessional.  “You wanna know what I confessed in there?  What my greatest sin was?  It was how many times I let you down.  I can't do that again,” Sam gasped out.  The pain in Sam’s voice as it cracks breaks Dean’s heart.  All the crap he'd lashed out and blamed on Sam, everything he was too fucking  _ scared  _ to talk about with his brother, was coming back to bite him in the ass.  If only Sam knew how much Dean hates himself for letting  _ Sam _ down so many times in his life.  For pulling him from school, for how little he could protect him from this life when they were kids.  

“Sam-”

“What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted, again?  I mean, who are you going to turn to next time, instead of me?  Another angel, another, another  _ vampire?  _  Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother-”  At the mention of Benny something finally clicks in Dean’s head.

“Just hold on!  You seriously think that?”  Sam took a shuddering breath, shaking with the struggle to stand.  “Because none of it,  _ none of it _ is true!  Listen man, I know we've had our disagreements.  I mean, hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels but Sammy, come on.”  Dean can feel the emotion in his throat, threatening to burn at his eyes, but he  _ needed  _ to make Sam see.  “I killed Benny to save you.  I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom  _ walk _ because of you!  Don't you  _ dare  _ think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of  _ you!   _ It has never been like that  _ ever _ .  I need you to see that.  I'm begging you.”

Sam looked at Crowley, at the cut still bleeding on his hand, the glow in his arms.

The universe teetered on the edge of life and death.

“I believe I can help.”  Dean and Sam both spun, startled as Cas appeared in the church.

“Cas?!  What the hell happened?” Sam practically shouted.  Cas was moving past Dean to Sam, dropping the stupid plastic bag on the floor, his eyes focused on examining Sam’s arms.

“I'm trusting Dean, for once in my goddamned life.”  Sam blinked at Cas in confusion, and Dean flushed as he heard his prayer quoted back at him.  “I called to Naomi instead of returning to heaven, she explained to me… well, enough.  She says she saw something in Metatron’s head, a spell of sorts, that might help...”  He looked up at Sam, then over to Dean.  

“And?” Dean asked, not daring to hope but wanting to know what the Angel had to say.  Cas dropped his eyes from Dean’s briefly before raising them again, the only sign that he was nervous.

“I can help your brother through this, though I'm afraid my own safety will be in jeopardy.”  Sam stumbles suddenly with a pained grunt and Dean leaps forward to help Cas catch him.

“How the hell is that any better?!”  Dean snapped.   _ Self sacrificing bastards, the both of them. _

“There’s no time to explain,” Cas urged.  Dean looked between them.  

“Dean, please.  We have to do this, we can't-” Sam started, but another wave of pain cut off his words in a groan.

If this went down, he was losing at least one of them tonight.  Maybe both.  His baby brother, and his best friend.  

He locked eyes with Cas’, and the resigned peace he saw there broke the remaining pieces of his heart.

_ Fuck _ .

He had to choose, and he could see in Cas’ eyes he knew what choice Dean would make.  It was the same choice he always made.  

Guilt bubbled like bile in his throat.

“Save him,” he whispered, unable to meet Cas’ eyes.  Cas nodded and Sam moved to hover over Crowley, Dean scrubbing a hand across his jaw as he stepped back.  The former king of Hell looked up slowly at Sam, noticing Castiel for the first time.  Dean was startled to see tears running down his cheeks.

“I'm so sorry…” Crowley sighed.  Cas was muttering in enochian, starting to glow white as he did so.  Dean watched in wonder as white tendrils seemed to sprout from his back, wrapping around Sam like a cocoon, writhing over his body until nearly all light had transferred from the Angel to the man.  A high pitched ringing started to fill the space.  Memories of a run down convenience store and an old motel room fill his mind, glass shattering as Cas attempted to speak to Dean.  That same sound echoed through the church now, vibrations rattling the few remaining windows as Cas spoke the spell in his true voice.

Emotion ripped through Dean, sudden and overwhelming.  This may be the last chance he had to talk to either of them, to try and tell them how much they meant to him.

“Sammy, I'll see you on the other side!  Cas is going to get you through it, and we’re going out for burgers and strippers after this,” Dean called, and Sam nodded.  More passed between them in that silent look than Dean could say in words.

“That's a promise,” Sam called back.  Dean turned his gaze to the Angel, still muttering in enochian under his breath as his angelic voice shook the church.

“Cas!” he called out over the humming, which was intensifying in vibration and volume.  Cas turned his head towards him, his face surrounded by the strange light.  Green eyes met glowing blue and there were a thousand things he wanted to say, but only one thing he could.  “I forgive you.”  That was it, the only words he could form.  He may have been pissed, hell, he may still be pissed, but it was  _ Cas.   _ He would always forgive Cas, because that stupid angel that cared too much about the world  _ meant _ something to Dean, something he was terrified to put a name to.  Cas looked at him with understanding, like he somehow knew all the words Dean would never say, could never say.

The light surrounding Sam pulsed brightly.

“Now Sam!” Cas shouted.  Sam shoved his fist into Crowley’s face, completing the spell, and there was a flash of light that shattered the windows and forced Dean to close his eyes.  He felt the earth start to shake, the floorboards of the church cracking and popping under the strain.  Dean toppled to the floor, smacking his head and sending his world spinning.  He scrubbed blood out of his eye, pushing through the pain to crawl towards the crumpled figures next to the overturned chair, Crowley’s vessel burnt and smoking.  The trembling of the ground nearly knocked him over again on the way, and he knew he had some new cuts and splinters in his palms and knees.  A candle got knocked off a ledge and the far corner of the building caught fire.  He reached for his brother, the glow in his arms gone, desperately checking his pulse point with shaking fingers.

It was there, faint and weak, but there.

_ Son of a bitch did it. _

Dean moved his hands to Cas, pressing fingers to his pulse point.  He waited with baited breath.

And a pulse flickered to life under his fingers.

He nearly sobbed with relief.

The ground stopped shaking, and he scrambled in his pocket for his phone, aware of the small fire that would soon be out of control.  Dean considered calling an actual ambulance, but they were out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, it would take way too long.  His gaze darted around the room desperately.  How the hell was he supposed to get two fully grown, unconscious men into his car and to a hospital?!

“Let me help,” a voice came from behind him.  Dean spun to find Naomi standing there, hair disheveled and jacket missing. 

“Never thought I'd be glad to see you,” he sighed.  She hurried to their sides, a hand running over Cas’ forehead.

“He survived, remarkable,” she breathed.  In a blink Cas was gone.  

“Where'd you send him?” Dean asked.  Naomi placed her hands on Sam and Dean’s shoulders and the next thing he knew, he was in a hospital, Sam stretched out on a bed.

“This place cannot help what is wrong with Castiel.”  She was speaking in a hurry, and handed Dean a piece of paper with an address written on it.  “When you can, this is where he’ll be.  Warded and protected.”  And with that she fluttered away.  Dean reached over and hit the nurse call button, unable to be concerned with Naomi at the moment.  Once the nurses arrived, and the flurry of medical professionals started to tend to Sam, Dean stepped out of the room into the hallway.  Only then did it sink in what had just happened.

They had closed the gates of Hell. 

No more demons.

_ Forever _ .

His eyes tracked the movement of people in Sam’s room.

_ But at what cost? _

 

***

 

Sam was in a coma, his body desperately trying to heal the damage the trials had done.  Dean nodded silently as the doctor attempted to explain Sam’s condition, only half listening.  He got a hold of Charlie first chance he got, he needed help hacking some new insurance cards to cover Sam’s bill.  He called Kevin to let him know what had happened, and Kevin promised to keep on the tablet, looking for a way to help Cas.  At least Naomi had dumped them in Kansas; near Lawrence, not Lebanon, but it was close enough for Dean.

The news on the waiting room TV was full of stories about people waking up from amnesia, or in the worst cases police finding a dead body.  Victims that were finally free from the demons possessing them.  As awful as the thought was, they weren't Dean’s problem, his brother and his angel were all he cared about.  The ones who survived were lucky, the ones who didn't at least weren't suffering anymore.  He googled the address Naomi gave him, apparently she stashed Cas in some cabin, about two hours drive from the hospital in the middle of nowhere.  He sent Garth to check in on Cas, he couldn't leave Sam alone.

 

***

 

One month passed, and Sam hadn't woken up.  The doctors were hopeful, results from the tests they did seemed to show Sam was improving.  Dean sat by Sam’s bed, trying to believe the doctors and not worry, but his brother’s pale face didn't set his stomach at ease.  He got a room in the motel next door, only going there to sleep, then returning to the hospital. 

He'd swapped places with Charlie for a day to help Garth move an as yet unresponsive Cas to the bunker.  Kevin had been able to find the spell Cas had used, but all the tablet had to say was what it did, not how to fix it.  He refused to listen to Kevin when he'd mention that maybe there  _ wasn't  _ a way to fix it.

 

***

 

It was exactly two weeks later when Sam finally opened his eyes.  Dean nearly sobbed with relief, rushing to his brother’s side as he hit the nurse call button.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.  You're okay, I'm here and you're okay,” Dean soothed as Sam tried to focus on his surroundings.  Sam tried to speak, but all that came out was a nasty croak.  Dean shushed him and took his non iv’d hand, squeezing tightly.  “You did it, you stupid son of a bitch.  You closed the doors,” Dean nearly laughed.  Sam relaxed and smiled as the nurses rushed in to check on him.  A few hours later, one heavy burden is lifted off his shoulders as the doctor explains how soon Sam can go home.  

Now if only Cas would wake up.

 

***

 

Once Sam left the hospital, it was day after day of physical therapy (also known as being half carried around the bunker by Dean, progressing into laps on his own), a strict diet to rebuild his strength (including vegetables, which Dean would never admit he was starting to enjoy cooking), and plenty of rest.  Movie nights became such a regular thing, Dean kept the projector screen set up permanently down by their weird telescope, moving a huge plush couch that he'd found and cleaned into the library area in front of it.

Charlie had officially moved into the bunker a week after the demons were cast out, much to Dean’s secret delight.  She'd taken two of their unused dorm rooms, choosing the ones next to the smaller, spare shower room further down the hall from the one Dean and Sam used.  One was her bedroom, the other was her ‘office’, where she spent most of her time digitizing the bunker’s records.

Kevin had two rooms to himself, too, one for his bedroom and one for his tablet work.  He wasn't spending as much time in the bunker as he used to; when the demons were shut away, police had found Kevin’s mom, locked up in a storage unit with a handful of other hostages for Crowley to use as leverage.  She had been set up with a small apartment not too far from the bunker to get back on her feet, and Kevin was helping her as much as he could.

In spite of all that, Dean refused to relax into the happiness he knew he should be feeling.  He couldn't, not really.

He was still waiting on Cas to wake up.

Dean spent a couple hours every night sitting at Cas’ bedside.  They'd moved him into a room a few doors down from Dean’s, nothing in it but a bed, a wardrobe, and an end table.  Cas’ still form was tucked under the covers, his trench coat, jacket, and tie were hung in the wardrobe, his shoes sitting by the edge of the bed.  Sam had grown in a mean beard while in his coma, his hair kept trimmed by the nurses (and actually a bit shorter than it had been before, above his ears now), but Cas… He just seemed to  _ be _ .  No beard, no outward change, just existing in perpetuity while Dean sat and worried, praying to him even though he wasn't sure Cas could hear.

_ Come back to me, Cas.  I need you to come back to me. _

 

***

 

Exactly 75 days after what Charlie had affectionately called “Demon D-Day”, Cas  _ finally  _ woke up.

Dean was sitting in the chair he'd moved into Cas’ room, starting to fall asleep, when he heard a grunt and the shuffle of movement from the bed in front of him.

“Dean?  What happened?”  Cas’ voice was rough from disuse, his hair was artfully tousled from the pillow when he sat up, and Dean’s heart jumped with a happy leap.

“I was beginning to think you'd never wake up,” Dean laughed breathily.  Cas squinted at him, eyes widening as he continued to wake and remember what had happened.

“Sam?  Is he-”

“He's fine, Cas.  You… You done good,” Dean finished lamely.  Words would never be enough to tell Cas how much his sacrifice for Sam meant to Dean, so he didn't bother trying.  Cas nodded, relief in his face.

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“75 days today, buddy.”  Dean could feel the grin on his face as Cas nodded, processing that information.

“I wasn't sure the spell would be successful, and I am very surprised I'm alive.”  Cas looked down his body, like he'd see some outward sign of damage.

“Well, you're okay, Sam’s okay, let's not even think about the mouth on this gift horse,” Dean said, patting Cas on the shoulder.  Cas frowned in confusion at Dean’s turn of phrase, but Dean wasn’t going to try and explain right then.

“So, what do we do now?” Cas asked.  Dean shrugged.

“Well, the demons are gone, but there’s still plenty of evil out there that needs killing, and angels to keep an eye on.  We’ll just keep doing what we do.”  Cas nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand, but falling back into it when he tried.  Dean was hovering over him immediately.  “Hey, easy, Cas, you've been out for a while.  Get your bearings, buddy.”  Cas’ face was filled with confusion, which slowly started to turn into panic.  Dean didn't like panic.

“Dean- I'm… My grace… “  Dean raised his eyebrows, but Cas seemed to have forgotten he was talking.

“What?  What about it?”

“It's gone.  I'm… human.”

_ Son of a bitch. _

 

***

 

Even after a month, Cas’ grace hadn't recuperated.  He'd spent a majority of his time figuring out how to keep up with personal hygiene, how to eat, how to deal with everything that came with just being  _ human.   _ Dean, feeling slightly guilty (okay, very guilty), had taken it upon himself to teach Cas as much as he could: how to shave, how to cook a grilled cheese sandwich, how to shop for clothes and groceries.  Whenever Cas had a question, he'd ask Dean, regardless of how awkward or uncomfortable, and regardless of who was in the room at the time.  Thankfully, Charlie had taken it upon herself to go buy one of those puberty self help books for Cas, so Dean didn't have to have  _ that _ conversation.

Dean tried to convince himself his friendship with Cas was the same as before, but something had definitely changed.  Dean noticed the change the first time he helped Cas shave his face, leaning way too far into Cas’ personal space to do so.  He hadn't felt as weird or awkward about it as he thought he would, and he hadn't even really noticed that he  _ should  _ feel awkward until after Cas had finished shaving, turning to smile proudly at Dean.  Dean’s knee jerk reaction was to jump about ten feet backwards, but Cas hadn't seemed to notice either the awkward closeness or Dean’s equally awkward escape.  

After that, and usually without Dean even knowing he was going to do it, he'd started making small gestures, patting Cas’ shoulder or ruffling his hair as he passed by.  He meant the touches to be reassuring, and when Cas’ anxious furrow to his brow would fade, worrying about stopping the small touches seemed silly.  As long as that was all they were.

Dean had become Cas’ instructor, his caretaker in so many ways, and no matter what he told himself their ‘relationship’, though Dean  _ hated  _ using that word, was  _ different  _ now that Cas had fallen.  The cause of the change wasn't something he could put his finger on, and he'd be damned if he ‘talked’ about it with Sam or Charlie.  Maybe because Cas was human now, he didn't seem as ‘out of reach’ as he had as an angel.  Maybe watching Cas move around the bunker, doing mundane human things, shifted Dean’s perceptions.  

Dean was fine just accepting that something had shifted, and he was going to leave it at that.

 

***

 

Did he think Sam was ready?  Hell no.  

Did Sam think he was ready?  Of course.

Dean had put him through target practice, even had Charlie help him build an obstacle course in the far end of the garage to run Sam through.  He was a bit slower than Dean would like, but he was hitting his targets and he’d even gotten the jump on Dean a few times while they were sparring.  Dean packed and repacked his bag about six times before he grudgingly walked out into the map room.  Sam was there, reading some book or another, looking for all intents and purposes back to normal.

“I'm gonna check in on Charlie real quick, then we’ll hit the road,” Dean called as he dropped his bag on the table.  Sam nodded, standing and tucking his book in his own duffle.

“I'll take these down to the garage and load up the Impala.”  Sam’s voice was casual, like this was any other hunt.  It wasn't though, it was his first hunt after the coma, the first time he'd really be leaving the bunker for more than groceries and a run.  Dean set his jaw against his nerves, turning to make his way towards the rooms.  

Dean smiled at the metal nameplate on the door to Kevin’s currently empty room as he passed by, the plate on the door next to it reading “The Prophet’s Dungeon”.  The plates had been Charlie’s idea, and once she’d made some for everyone (yes, Dean had a shiny metal plate with his name on it on his bedroom door), they started labeling and using some of the spare rooms (Charlie had counted out 54 bedrooms) to sort out some of the files and boxed objects in the bunker store rooms.  They would be placed in a category, then tucked away together before being sorted through at a later date.  Sam and Charlie were having a field day with the files, oftentimes they’d be found huddled together in Charlie’s “Lair of Awesomeness” as the golden plaque read, the scanner buzzing away and geeking out about some file or another.  

Dean knocked on Charlie’s open door, and she looked up at him with her bright smile.

“Headed out for Sam’s first hunt?”  She set her headphones down, putting the laptop down on the bed next to her.

“Yeah, we’re on our way out.”

“Got your dead man’s blood?” 

“Yes, Charlie-”

“And the uv flashlights?  Should give them one mean headache-”

“Charlie.  It's a simple vamp run.  We got this.”  She smiled knowingly at him.

“Mmhmm.  And do you believe that?”  Dean smiled thinly.

“We’ll see you in a few days,” Dean sighed, turning to go.  Charlie cleared her throat behind him, and he turned slowly.  “Yes, your highness?”

“I'm not the only person you should say goodbye to,” she said casually, pulling her headphones back on and returning her attention to her laptop before Dean could say anything.  Dean huffed his annoyance as he left Charlie’s room, even though she was already unable to hear him.  He turned down the hallway, away from the garage, back out to the map room and across towards the library.  Cas was sitting on the couch, feet tucked up underneath him, reading yet another book.  From the looks of it this one was in Latin.

Once Cas’ initial adjustment period had ended, he'd started growing restless, wanting to help but having no idea how.  Charlie had teamed up with him to work on sorting out some of the lore she couldn't translate, but Dean knew even that wasn't really enough any more.  All he wanted was for Cas to just live his life.  He’d given up his essence, hell his  _ species _ to help rid the world of demons, Dean figured he deserved retirement.  That wasn't who he was, though, and Dean knew it.  Cas wanted to help, and even got angry when Dean suggested he just sit back and relax.  Dean had been brainstorming different things for Cas to be responsible for, but hadn't been able to come up with much.  Just looking at him, sitting on the couch in jeans and a tshirt, hunched over with a bit of scruff on his face, reminded Dean in a harsh way that his best friend was so much less than he used to be, and Dean couldn't help but feel responsible.

“Hey, Cas, we’re on our way out,” he sighed.  Cas looked up and set down his book.  

“Sam is adequately recovered, I believe your timing for this was a good choice,” Cas said simply.  Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Cas’ statement.

“Thanks, Cas, for your vote of confidence.”  Cas nodded, missing Dean’s sarcasm.

“How is your ward healing?” Cas asked.  Dean ran his hand over the new tattoo on his lower ribs.  Cas had insisted that while demons were no longer a problem, Angels could still pose a threat.  They seemed to be keeping to themselves, but Cas had reasoned, and Sam and Charlie agreed, that a bit of prevention was better than nothing.  Cas had designed a spell, and had all of them go get it tattooed somewhere on their torso.  

“It's fine Cas, thanks.”  Dean was suddenly struck with an idea.  “Say, Cas, I know we’ve been holding off warding the bunker in case…” 

“In case my grace restores itself,” Cas finished for him matter of factly.  Dean winced but continued.

“Yeah.  Why don't you see if there's any spells that will just ward against entry? You know, from outside?  So you'd be okay once you were in.  Something we can easily turn on and off?”  Cas just stared at Dean for a few minutes, and Dean shifted awkwardly under his stare.

“I suppose that would be useful.  I'll look into it,” he said finally, standing and moving towards the bookshelves.  Dean sighed, he  _ needed _ to do something for Cas.  He's given up so much surely Dean could at least find him a place in this new human world.  

There was only one life Dean knew.  The life of a hunter.  In a perfect world, he'd keep Cas out of that life, Charlie and Kevin, hell, and Sam too.  However, this wasn't a perfect world, and it would be impossible to keep Cas out of it anyway; he was a fallen angel, he was part of it whether he wanted to be or not.  

Maybe Dean should start treating him that way.

“What do you think about some target practice when I get back, huh?”  Cas turned back to Dean and tilted his head, like he wasn't sure Dean was serious.

“You want to teach me to shoot a gun,” Cas clarified.  Dean nodded.

“Yeah, why not?  You're human now, gotta be able to defend yourself.”  Cas’ smile was barely there on his face, but Dean saw the excitement in his eyes.

“I suppose that knowing how to use a firearm would be a good thing.”  Dean nodded, clapping his hands together after Cas’ agreement.

“Alright, we’ll start when I get back.  See you in a week, Cas,” Dean said, squeezing his shoulder as he passed by to head to the car.  

“Dean?”  Dean paused, and Cas gave him a strange look, like he knew what to say, but wasn't sure how to say it.  “If there's anything you need…”  Dean smiled, turning to go.

“You’ll be the first to know, Cas.”

 

When he walked up to the Impala, Sam raised his eyebrows, silently asking what took Dean so long.

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, dropping in the driver’s seat.


	2. 2. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said three week updates, but I had this chapter written, and I figured why not post, lol. This is my first real attempt at writing Sam, I've never really attempting something from his POV before, so hopefully I get this right. :)

Sam gathered up the duffle bags and wandered down the hall towards the garage slowly.  The bunker was really turning into a headquarters for them, Charlie had made great progress while Sam was out of commission, and he'd eagerly jumped in to help while he was recovering.  

To Dean, though, he knew it had become more than that.  When they'd first moved in Dean had ‘nested’ as he called it, and Sam had to admit he hadn't ever seen Dean quite as relaxed as he had in the bunker.  Since Charlie and Kevin had moved in, and Cas had started having to learn a lifetime of basic care in a couple months, that nesting had progressed.  His brother was becoming quite the mother hen.

His brother finally had a  _ home. _

Sam chuckled to himself as he dropped the bags in the Impala’s trunk, opening his door and dropping into the passenger seat.  He knew Dean would never admit it, but being surrounded by their friends, in his  _ own  _ room, had softened his edges a little bit.  Dean had stopped drinking as much, he stopped needing to run to the next hunt.  Dean was becoming content with lounging around watching Netflix, going over a file with Charlie, or explaining to Cas the pros and cons of men’s underwear styles.  Sam chuckled to himself;  _ that  _ was a fantastic conversation to walk in on, he had never seen Dean blush so badly, or make a more ungraceful exit.  

Sam scanned over the police reports on his iPad again, waiting for Dean to say his goodbyes.  He'd only said he was talking to Charlie, but Sam knew he wouldn't leave without checking on Cas either.  When Dean finally made his way into the garage, Sam just raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean shot him an annoyed look.

“Shut up,” he snapped.  

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam laughed.  Dean just started the engine and pulled them out of the garage, Sam glancing at the spare cars parked along the walls, remnants from the old Men of Letters.  “You know, we could sell some of those cars, have a little extra cash on hand…”  Sam trailed off at the look of horror on Dean’s face.

“Those are all  _ classics _ , Sam!  In mint condition!” he said indignantly.  Sam rolled his eyes, figuring he’d get this argument from his brother.

“Yeah, and they're just sitting there gathering dust,” he pointed out.  “We don’t ever drive any of them.”  Dean just glared angrily at the road ahead, muttering under his breath about Sam’s lack of respect for the finer things, and Sam settled into the seat for a nap.  It was going to be one hell of a drive to Oregon.

 

They spent one night in a skeevy motel outside of Salt Lake City where Dean grumbled the entire time about the questionable mattress, then they were back on the road, classic rock blaring in the car and the miles rolling by.  By the time they arrived in Oregon, they easily fell back into their familiar pattern.  It felt good to be in the hunt again, doing the job like they always had.  Sam didn't miss the fact that Dean gave him the easier work, leaving him at the motel to hack security cameras while he did the fact finding, but Sam was just glad Dean let them take this hunt.

As he checked faces on security videos for reflective retinas or fangs, he mused on something Charlie had said to him the other day.  

_ You could take it easy now, you know.  Sit back and relax a little bit.  The big danger is over _ .

Sam knew his brother would never hang up the life.  Till the day he died, Dean would be out there fighting, hunting down monsters in all corners of the country till he couldn't anymore.  Now that the demons were gone, Sam was beginning to settle back in his old frame of mind, that maybe  _ he  _ didn't have to hunt till he died.  He'd tried to retire before, and that had backfired in the worst way, but this time, things were different.  Dean wasn’t in purgatory, for one thing, and without demons in the mix, it left a lot less creatures out there with grudges specific to the Winchesters.  The rumble of the Impala’s engine brought him out of his thoughts and into the present.  Now wasn't the time to worry about long term goals, they needed to finish this job first.  Sam turned to the door to see his brother walking in, a six pack tucked under his arm and a couple take out bags in the other.

“Anything?” Dean asked.  Sam turned the computer towards Dean.

“I think this John Howard is the guy we’re looking for.  Got a lens flare on numerous cameras near the blood bank.”  Sam pulled up the images he was talking about.  “Get this, he works there.”

“Really?” Dean chuckled.  “Cushy job for a fang.”

“Yeah, he’s the night janitor.  He got the job two days before the first robbery, and one week after the first body.”  Dean handed Sam a bag, dropping into the chair on the other side of the table.

“Alright then, I'll go check out Johnny boy, you play watchman at the plantation house.”  Sam opened the takeout bag, pulling out a chicken wrap and a bag of chips, surprised to see Dean pull out the same thing.  Sam’s face must have shown his disbelief, because Dean shifted in his chair.  “What?  It's buffalo chicken,” he muttered.  Sam just shook his head with a laugh.  Maybe there was hope for his brother after all.

 

Two days later, they'd finally sorted out the size of the nest.

“Ten?”  Dean was trying to play it off as no big deal, but ten vamps at once in closed quarters with Sam freshly back in the game wasn't a small order, especially for their first round at bat in a long time.

“It's been two days, Dean.  Same ten people each day.  Unless they're keeping someone in town, the entire nest returns to the house each night.”

“Alright then,” Dean sighed heavily.  “It's,” Dean glanced at his watch, “six hours to sunrise?  You go keep watch, and as soon as that sun comes up, we’ll bag and tag them.”  

“And what are you doing while I'm staked out all night?” Sam asked with a frown.  Dean grabbed the roll of syringes, the jingle of the keys to the Impala matching his too cheerful, sarcastic smile.

“I'm going to go poke some dead guys.”  His smile faltered awkwardly at the unintended innuendo, and Sam smirked at his discomfort even as he scoffed in disgust.  “I'll feel much better with a little more dead man’s blood for a nest this large,” he corrected gruffly, turning and walking out of the motel room.  Sam laughed, grabbing his bag of energy drinks and heading outside as well.  Dean stopped him with a point and a glare.  “Do not do anything without me.”

“I don't have a hero complex, or a death wish, Dean,” Sam pointed out.  Dean raised an eyebrow and walked over to the Impala, climbing in and pulling away.  Sam wandered the street for a short while till he found an old, beat up Toyota tucked away in an alley.  Carefully he jimmied open the lock and hot wired the car, driving away to the edge of town.  

He pulled into his usual spot on a service road in the woods beside the house, shielded by trees.  He was getting tired of staring at the same house night after night, the only thing that kept him from going crazy was this hunt was just about done.  He felt a little nervous, checking his duffle again and again to make sure he'd packed everything.  When he realized what he was doing, he laughed at his own insecurity.

_ You're Sam fucking Winchester.  You closed the gates of Hell.  You got this. _

After downing an energy drink that tasted like carbonated piss, he shifted to get more comfortable, watching the quiet house with wandering attention.  

Dean would get so focused before a hunt, even more so since returning from purgatory.  Sam had always envied Dean his ability to just give in to his base instincts, to turn off his worries about morality, about the fact that the monsters they were hunting used to be  _ people _ .  Every time they burned a set of bones, Sam was never able to keep himself from wondering how it felt.  Every time they properly disposed of a monster’s body, Sam would wonder how much their parents knew, and if they might miss them.  It was probably why they bickered so much in the beginning, because Sam was never able to buy into the indoctrination their dad fed them.  Black and white, good and evil.  Dean fell in line with just a look from John, and Sam knew his brother was so much  _ more _ than that soldier, more than a weapon to be wielded.  He saw it in how hard Dean fights to save people, how quickly he volunteers himself to take the place of others.  Hell, he'd sold his  _ soul  _ for Sam, and while that was a monumental bad idea, he had to admit it said volumes about his brother’s character.  And why Dean deserved that happy ending that hunter's hardly ever got.

Then there was that speech he gave when they'd found out about the trials, about how Dean saw his perfect ending.  Sam, with a family, dying not by a monster’s hand, but by old age.

Maybe they  _ both  _ had that chance now.

Movement at the house draws him back to the present.  A large handful of the vamps we're going back and forth from the house, loading coolers and supplies into the three SUV’s parked out front.

_ Fuck, they're leaving.   _

Sam sighs resignedly to himself.

He was only supposed to be on lookout, but the nest is packing up and he doesn't have a whole lot of time to think this through.  He shot a text to Dean to get there asap, grabbing a few things from his duffle and loading up his pockets with dead man's blood.  He waited until all the vamps walked back inside the dilapidated plantation home before slipping out of his borrowed Corolla, keeping as low to the ground as his large frame would allow while he sprinted for the SUV’s the vamps were loading up.  He hefted his machete, getting ready to slice the tires when he heard muffled shouts and the sound of fighting from inside the house.

_ Shit!   _

Sam ducked down further, practically crawling as he made his way up onto the porch, the sounds of the scuffle drowning out the small squeak the floorboards gave when he stepped on them.  He inched towards one of the broken windows, trying to see what was happening inside, but his view was mostly blocked by an old dresser.  Cursing, he tried to inch to another window, but the telltale sound of a sharp object separating a head from its shoulders came from inside, and Sam ducked down below the window sill.  

“That's...all nine of you…dumb fanged fuckers,” a woman panted from the other side of the window.  “Good riddance.”

_ Another hunter?  Wait… She said nine… _ Sam cursed and scrambled to his feet.  He heard the woman cry out in pain from inside the house, and he gave up on stealth, running to the closest window and launching himself through the half glassed pane.  He stumbled slightly as he landed, nearly losing his footing on the broken glass at his feet.

_ I'm getting too old for this… _

Sounds of a struggle were coming from the other side of the house followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor, and Sam hefted his machete, rushing towards them.  He smelled the fire just before he felt the heat, as he turned the corner into the kitchen.  The old dining room table was on fire, the smell of gasoline sharp over the smoke.  A vamp was lying headless on the floor near the table, fangs still lowered in its mouth, the blood still oozing from its neck that…  _ Wait _ … It looked like the neck had been  _ torn  _ from the body, not cut…

“Ngh…” He spun in the direction of the pained noise, and found the woman slumped against the counter, a strange looking half sword in her blood covered right hand.  Her left hand, wearing a fingerless leather glove, was attempting to raise her all the way to her feet.  Sam coughed against the rising smoke, the fire spreading quickly.

“Hey, hey, I got you, come on,” Sam tried to reassure her as he moved to her side, grabbing her as she started to slump again.  She groaned in pain under his touch but didn’t seem to have the energy to protest.  The fire was getting huge, sweat already pouring over Sam’s skin as he coughed and struggled to help her out of the house.  The burn of the smoke in his lungs wasn't too bad yet, he'd dealt with worse, but he knew the house had a gas stove, and it was only a matter of time before the fire reached it.

“Who… the hell… are you?” the woman gasped out, defiant even in her weakened state.  Sam pushed the front door open and adjusted his grip on her waist, tossing her arm over his shoulder as best he could.  She was fairly tall, all things considered, or this would be a lot harder than it already was.

“My name is Sam,” he grunted, urging them quickly across to one of the SUV’s, opening the passenger door and trying to get her inside while avoiding the short sword she had clenched in her hand.  He noticed the sheath for it on her back as she turned to drag herself weakly into the car.

“Sam?” she groaned.  He ran around to the driver side of the SUV, beyond thankful that the keys were in the ignition.  He started the car and drove as fast as he could down the dirt road, away from the house and towards the Corolla he'd borrowed.  “Winchester?” the woman asked.  Sam winced, wondering why this hunter had heard his name before.  It was never for anything good.  “Fuck, you are Sam Winchester,” she sighed.  Just as they reached the smaller car, a large explosion came from behind them, making Sam swerve slightly as he jumped and turned to look behind them, the house engulfed in flames.  He turned back and he met the woman’s eyes, a bright silver, shining in the light from the fire.

“Yeah, I am,” he said cautiously.  “Is that a problem?”  She appraised him for a moment, no fear, just cold calculation.  Her eyes drooped tiredly.

“I guess not.  Try not to kill us, I'm gonna catch a few z’s.”  She slid the sword into its sheath and before she could do anything else she passed out, slumped against the passenger door.  Sam took a deep breath, watching her heavy breathing for a moment, hoping she wasn't bleeding out from a wound he couldn't see.  Sam grabbed the rest of his things from the Corolla, climbing back in the SUV and heading towards town.

_ Dean’s gonna be pissed. _

 

He sent Dean another SOS text to meet him back at the motel, driving as quickly as he could without attracting attention.  He parked in the back corner, closest to their room, and looked over at his unconscious passenger.  The woman hadn't woken up yet, and Sam was a little flustered about what to do with her.  As he actually looked at her for the first time, he noticed that there was  _ a lot  _ of blood on her clothes, more than spatter from slicing off heads.  If she had been injured that might explain why she was still unconscious.  He nudged her gently, and she didn't wake, or show any sign she felt anything.  He grabbed his duffle out of the back, then, glancing around to make sure there weren't any onlookers, he opened her door, gathering her up in his arms and shuffling as best he could to the room he and Dean had rented.  She was all lean muscle, making her weigh more than he thought at first, but he managed to get the door unlocked and get inside the room before dropping her.  He lowered her onto his bed and ran the silver, salt, and iron tests, which she passed, trying to figure out what else to do before Dean got back.

They didn't trust other hunters, usually with good reason.  Most of them were barely tolerant of them, and the ones who weren't hated them, though with the quantity of times they'd broken the world, between them and Cas anyway, Sam could hardly blame them.  He wandered around the room, rubbing his temples and attempting to settle the adrenaline still in his system.  The rumble of the Impala outside gave Sam only a brief warning that his brother had arrived before Dean was bursting through the motel door.

“Dude, what the hell-” he started, but stopped suddenly when he caught sight of the girl on the bed.  He looked up at Sam, angry confusion on his face.  “I repeat, what the hell Sam?!” he hissed in an angry whisper.

“I don't know, Dean!  I was watching the nest, and they started to pack up.  I went to stop them when I heard sounds of a struggle, but by the time I arrived,” Sam gestured at the woman, “she'd killed the entire nest.”  Dean’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at the woman with greater interest.

“The entire nest?” he asked in a stunned whisper.  Sam nodded and Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.  “So she's a hunter, then, a damned good one.”

“That’s what I gathered when I saw this.”  Sam gently shifted her onto her side, slowly pulling the blade from its sheathe.  It was heavier than Sam expected, and the sigils and symbols etched into the handle and the blade were like nothing Sam had ever seen.  Dean ran his finger over the metal, shifting the angle of the light as he turned it to and fro.  Sam couldn't settle on a color for the blade, varying shades of golds, silvers, and even a swirl of brown ran down its length.  

“Looks like it's made of silver, but there's something else mixed in the metal,” Dean muttered under his breath, grudgingly impressed.  

“To get this etch work to stay in the blade like this… It's just like the demon knife but… _ more _ .”  The woman stirred, a small pained groan escaping her, and both Sam and Dean stared down at her, frozen in place.  She didn't fully wake, her head falling to the side as she continued to breathe evenly.  Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. 

“What do we do with her?” he asked.

“I don't know!”

“Well you found her!” Dean snapped back.  Dean looked between the weapon and the woman a few times.  

“She recognized me,” Sam pointed out quietly.  Dean’s jaw clenched, and he nodded.

“Alright then, I'm going to go make sure all our bases are covered.  You're going to babysit until she wakes up.”  Dean adjusted his gun in his jeans and his machete in his jacket and stalked out of the hotel room again.  Sam huffed a sigh and turned back to the sleeping woman in his bed.

_ Well now what? _

 

Dean had been gone for longer than necessary, and Sam guessed he was probably in a bar somewhere blowing off steam.  He knew there was a part of Dean that was upset about missing out on the actual ‘hunt’ part of this, a side effect of purgatory hanging on in Dean’s system.  To pass time, Sam tried researching some of the marks on the woman's blade.  A few were enochian, like expected, but others there were no matches for at all.  He snapped a few pictures and sent them to Charlie in the bunker, hoping she might have better luck.

Trying to stay awake, Sam walked into the bathroom, washing his face with some cold water.  He examined himself in the mirror, glad that the deep circles under his eyes were gone, his skin gaining some color back after growing pale from his coma.  Other than his hair hanging just above his ears, which the nurses had cut a bit shorter than he'd have liked, he was back to normal on the outside.  A small twinge of pain ran up his left arm, spreading from his fingers up to his shoulder, and he rode it out with a poker face like always.  The pains were getting less frequent, so he didn't worry Dean about them.  No, as far as his brother knew, Sam was a full 100%.  

_ Now if I could just figure out what to do with the mystery woman _ , he mused as he walked back into the motel room.

The woman who was sitting up in bed and watching Sam cautiously.

“I uh, hello,” he mumbled awkwardly.  Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't say anything, and Sam noticed she'd tucked her strange blade back into its sheathe.  

“Hello,” she said back.  He shifted awkwardly for a moment under her gaze.  “Guess you’re expecting a thank you,” she sighed, stripping off the combat vest she was wearing over her plain blue t shirt.  She seemed oblivious to the blood still clinging to her hair, making her shirt stick to her skin.

“No, uh, it was no problem,” Sam said.  “Good job with that nest,” he added.  She shrugged, leaning over to pull off her boots, setting aside a small hold out gun and a couple of knives she'd tucked into them.  There was a thick energy in the room, both of them sizing the other up, trying to see if they could trust the other.  Sam was used to it from male hunters, his brother had a way of strutting about like an alpha dog when there were other men around, but to feel that level of confidence, of smug ‘I-can-take-you-on’ from a woman was a bit unnerving.

“So Sam,” she said casually, sliding a small arrow-head shaped knife out of the glove on her left hand and setting it on the bed next to the others.  “You Winchesters come in a pair, usually.  Where’s your brother?” 

“Out,” he answered immediately, like he knew where Dean was when really he didn't have a clue.  He  _ really  _ should have been back by now.  She slipped the sheathe over her shoulder next, wrapping her hand around the blade handle that was formed perfectly for her fingers.  He watched as she drew the blade, pointing it at him, not in a threatening way, more like a gesture.  Like the blade was part of her arm.

“You know, it's impolite to borrow things without asking,” she quipped, sliding it back in its sheathe.  Now that it wasn't covered by the vest, Sam noticed the sheathe also bore some of the same spell work the blade itself did.  His gaze was drawn back up to her face, half covered by her blood matted, long brown hair, silver eyes watching him closely.

“Sorry, it's just a very… unique blade.  What is it, exactly?”  She set it next to her thigh possessively.

“My lifeline.”  She didn't seem like she was about to elaborate, so Sam let it go.  She shifted in the bed and a small hiss escaped her, and she turned to reveal a small tear in her shirt just under her left ribs, the blood stain darker there.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, moving slightly closer before her eyes fixed him with a cold look that made him stop.  “I've got some bandages if you've been hurt.”

“I'm fine,” she snapped quickly.  “Just a scratch.”  She bundled up her belongings in the vest, gathering it up under her right arm.  “Could I use your shower?” she asked.  Sam shrugged, there was no way she'd fit through the small 6in thin window, so he wasn't worried about her running off.  

“Yeah, I, uh, I guess.”  She stood and moved past him towards the bathroom.  “Did you need anything else?” he asked, feeling slightly vulnerable and put out by how  _ awkward _ and insignificant she made him feel.  She stopped just in front of the door, huffing a sigh as she turned to him.  Her silver eyes shone with mischief, the unusual color making the look almost predatory.

“I'm alright, really, just filthy.  You don't need to play the hero, Sam, I can take care of myself.”  She walked in the bathroom, and he heard the lock click.  He sank into one of the chairs, running a hand through his hair.  Even for a hunter, this girl was unusual.  He heard the Impala pull up, and relief washed through him.

“- make sure he doesn't...,” Dean was saying as he walked in.  Sam looked up to see his brother loaded up with plastic bags, the phone tucked against his ear.  “Alright, thanks Charlie.”  Dean gave the empty bed a pointed look.  Sam gestures at the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on explanation by itself.

“What's going on with Charlie?” he asked.  Dean rolled his eyes.

“Cas is trying to cook again,” Dean said with a smirk.  Sam couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.  The last time Cas had attempted to cook on his own they'd discovered the bunker had a smoke alarm.  Granted, that had been without instruction or supervision, and Cas had only been awake for about a week.

“I'm sure Charlie will keep him from burning the place down,” Sam said.

“Also, she has jack so far on the pictures you sent her,” Dean added, dropping his voice to a murmur, putting the bags on the table.  “Did you figure out what to do with her?” Dean asked quietly, glancing at the bathroom door.  Sam scoffed.

“I'm pretty sure she's trying to decide what to do with us.  She's… intense.”  Sam didn't have any other way to describe her, so he left it at that.

“Intense?” Dean sounded sceptical.  “What's her name?” Sam felt heat creep up his ears.

“I didn't get her name,” he muttered.  He had been so flustered by her he'd forgotten to ask.  Dean smirked.

“S’matter Sammy?  Puppy dog eyes lose their powers?” Dean teased.  Sam sighed, pulling a bag of Funyuns over to him and munching.  Dean had just tucked into a slice of pie when the water stopped running in the shower.  Dean finished his pie while they waited, both of them turning their gazes to the door when it swung open.  She was wrapped in a towel, her clothes in a heap on the floor behind her, the only thing hidden behind the door was her left hand holding onto the knob.  Her brown hair was draped over her shoulder, nearly long enough to reach her navel, still dripping.  Sam and his brother both choked on air, though she didn’t seem phased at all by her near nakedness.

“You boys got any spare clothes?  Mine are a little worse for the wear,” she asked.  Sam felt Dean’s foot nudge his leg under the table.

“Yeah, I'll uh, I'll see what I’ve got,” Sam mumbled, jumping up and walking over to his duffle.

“You must be Dean,” she said, as Sam found a clean t shirt and a pair of cotton drawstring shorts in his bag.

“The one and only,” Dean said smugly.  Sam walked over and held out the clothes, trying to avert his eyes without seeming obvious about it.  The amused look in her eyes told him she noticed anyway.

“You're both not what I expected,” she said simply, curiosity in her voice.  

“I'm better looking than most give me credit for,” Dean preened.  She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head.

“No, actually, I was thinking you're a little oversold.”  She took the clothes from Sam and stepped back to let the door swing mostly shut, Sam trying and failing to hide his smile at Dean’s indignance.

“So, you heading out?” Sam asked, to head off Dean's retort.  Dean shot him a glare and pulled Sam’s Funyuns over to him, munching loudly.

“Oh, you mean I'm allowed to?” she called sarcastically from the bathroom.  

“Well, yeah,” Sam said, slightly puzzled.

“So I wasn't kidnapped, then, you were genuinely concerned?”  She walked out of the bathroom, her bundle of clothes and weapons tucked under her arm, her glove back on her left hand.  Sam went to ask her about it, but his too large clothes were hanging off her oddly, the neck of his shirt falling off her shoulder, revealing a bright pink bra strap that had Sam distracted.

“That's Sammy’s problem, he's a great big softie,” Dean called from the table.  She laughed, shaking her head.

“You two really don't live up to your reputations,” she sighed.  “Here I was, all nervous because the Winchesters had me captive, when a little bit of skin gets the big one flustered, and the other one has an easily bruised ego.”  Sam blushed and Dean opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.  “As it turns out, my car was recently destroyed beyond repair.  If I could get a ride to my supply stash, it would be much appreciated.”

“Alright,” Dean said grudgingly.  Apparently Dean was intrigued with her as well.  She stripped a pillow case off of one of the pillows, dumping her belongings in it and dropping some cash on the naked pillow.  Dean took his last bite of food, standing and brushing crumbs off his hands.

“I'm gonna hit the head, then we’ll roll out,” he said, walking to the bathroom.  She adjusted her bundled belongings under her left arm, smiling up at Sam.

“Thanks for the clothes,” she said, sincerely, “I wasn’t about to climb back into these nasty things.”  Sam nodded.

“You’re welcome.  Hey, uh, I never got your name,” he pointed out.  Her silver eyes lit up as she smiled at him, her first genuine smile he'd seen.

“Annika.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like my OC! Give her a chance, okay?!
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will go up, but I hope you guys enjoyed this one XD


	3. 3. Wait, what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Dean's POV!
> 
> Adding some plot now, though I think the title of the chapter speaks for itself.
> 
> Again, I apologize if this gets confusing, this story was written mostly for me :)
> 
> Leave me some comments <3

_Dean_

Dean watched Annika in the rearview as he drove, probably more than he should if he was going to safely get them anywhere in one piece.  The ‘intensity’ Sam had described about her seemed to wear off once she realized he and Sam weren’t a threat.  Dean gritted his teeth again at the thought.  

Why did everyone  _ always  _ assume they were a threat?  A few years ago that might have fed into his ego, but now…now it was just sort of depressing.  They may not trust anyone, but they didn’t always try to  _ kill  _ everyone they met.

Usually.

Well, they didn't meet very many  _ people. _

As it turns out, her supply stash was basically a military grade duffle and backpack, both filled to bursting, tucked away in the woods near the burnt down plantation home that had housed the nest.  Dean caught a glimpse of some impressive weaponry in the duffle as she packed everything but her small sword, which was slung over her shoulder, adjusting the leather glove on her left hand.

“Doesn’t really match the outfit,” he pointed out, jokingly, nodding at the glove.  She shrugged.

“Lucky charm.  I never take it off.”

“Never?” he asked, wondering how the leather was lasting if she  _ showered _ wearing it.

“Never,” she smirked as she lifted her things, moving past Dean.  Dean caught Sam’s eyes over the Impala and before he could even raise his eyebrows suggestively, Sam had rolled his eyes at him.   _ Prude. _

“So what now?” Dean sighed.  She paused to think, pulling out her phone and looking at something.

“What direction are you headed in?” she asked.  

“East,” Dean said vaguely.

“Dude, we're in  _ Oregon,  _ I think she figured that out,” Sam chuckled.  Dean glared at his brother, who returned the bitchface.

“Midwest area,” he amended, turning back to Annika.  She nodded.

“Mind if I hitch a ride for a little longer?” she asked.  

“I don't see why not?” Sam said, shrugging at Dean.

“Sure why not, Winchester taxi at your service,” Dean muttered, climbing back in the car.  Sam helped her load her bags in the backseat and they were back on the road again.

He listened while Sam made small talk with Annika as they drove, his brother having perfected the art of getting information from people without it seeming like he was getting information.  Her story was normal as far as hunter’s stories go, crappy childhood led to crappy life changing monster encounter, led to hunting.  She was orphaned at a young age, and had been on the move for about as long as she could remember.  She took up hunting as a teen when a fellow runaway was mauled by a vampire, and for the most part had been making her way on her own the whole time, learning the job as she went.  Her words had the ring of truth, and from what little Dean could see in his mirror, she wasn’t acting shifty, didn’t seem to be trying to hide anything.  She answered everything Sam asked, easily and willingly, and Dean saw his brother starting to relax.  She seemed to know a lot about them already, which wasn’t all that surprising considering how hunters liked to gossip, and lord knows Sam and Dean had made some headlines in the past.  

And Chuck’s goddamned books of course.

Even as they got to know her story, and started to let their guard down, Dean couldn’t shake the feeling, the gut instinct that something was  _ off  _ about her.  He felt it run through his system, a physical shudder shaking his shoulders, and the next time he glanced back in the rearview her strange silver eyes met his briefly.   _ Ok, a little creepy. _

“So I gotta ask,” Sam was saying, “Where did you find that blade?  I’ve seen a lot in my day and I haven’t seen  _ anything  _ quite like it.”  She smiled and reached over her back to pull the blade from its sheathe.   _ If she put a hole in Baby’s seat... _

“You’re never going to find anything like it, because I made it,” she said evenly.  Dean and Sam shared a brief look of disbelief.

“Made it?  As in…?” Dean asked.  She smirked, holding the blade sideways and pointing to the hilt.

“Wooden core to the handle, from an olive tree that dates back to the time Christ was alive.  Leather wrap made from the skin of a Gorgon.”  Sam and Dean side eyed each other again.  “Yes, like Medusa,” she sighed, “and by the way, the silent conversation is rude.”  Dean frowned and Sam blushed as she continued.  “The leather is bound by protection spell work from about ten different religions.  Metal is made up of iron, silver, gold, and an angel blade.”

“An angel blade?  Really?” Sam’s voice was pitched up in disbelief.  “You can’t melt those down with anything short of hellfire, trust us, we’ve tried.”  When he and Sam had heard about how Crowley had done it from Cas, they were desperate to try.  Dean had nearly blown up the cabin they were staying in.

“Tell that to the dragon who lit the fire for me.”  Her statement didn't sound like bragging, it wasn't prideful, just matter of fact.

A heavy beat of silence hung in the car.  

“Okay, now you’re making shit up,” Dean laughed, just to break the tension.  “Dragonfire?!”

“Hey, monsters were acting weird as shit a couple years ago, I managed to score some help,” she scoffed.  Dean and Sam exchanged knowing looks about that year.

“And all the stuff in the hilt?  You just happened to have all those things, and know how to work all those spells?” Sam continued, some of the disbelief having left his voice, surprise taking over.

“I didn’t say I made it overnight, I'm older than I look,” she snapped.  She sheathed the blade, crossing her arms over her chest, a defiant tilt to her chin.  “I’ve been lucky, I’ve been stubborn, I've had help, and I have a lot of patience.  This is my life’s work, boys, and it’s not completely done, still have one more binding to perform.”  She looked between the two of them, rolling her eyes at their confused faces.  “If you really don’t believe me, check out Google, do your little chemistry experiments to check the makeup of my sword.”  Sam cleared his throat to fill the awkward silence that followed her snarky comment.  Dean couldn’t see the bitch face he was sure she was giving his brother, but he could practically feel it on the back of his neck.

“Wow, that’s… wow.” Sam stuttered.  “Color us impressed.”  There was sincerity in Sam’s voice, Dean noticed, and she seemed to relax slightly, leaning back in the seat.

“You two ain't so bad, managed to accomplish a lot of crazy shit,” she said quietly.  “I've never faced Death before, nor stopped an apocalypse.  And closing the gates of hell, one impressive trick.”  Dean was getting antsy, unsure what to make of the praise she was giving them when two seconds ago they were miles beneath her.  “You guys do deserve a bit more credit than you get,” she finished, genuinely.  He exchanged a bewildered look with Sam, turning back to the road and trying to shake off the weird feeling she’d sent crawling across his skin.

 

After they crossed the border into Utah, Dean couldn't drive anymore, food and sleep calling to him too strongly.  Sam had emailed some info and questions to Charlie subtly as they drove, about Annika’s story and her sword, but they hadn't heard anything yet, and the heavy silence in the car spoke to how tired they all were.  Dean pulled into a motel just off the interstate.

“You got enough for a room?” Dean asked Annika, parking in the spot near the back of the motel.  

“How gentlemanly of you.  And no, I don't.”  She raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean opened and closed his mouth, not used to being sassed so much, glaring at Sam when he laughed at Dean.  “We can share a room, if that's alright with you guys?” she added.  The smile faded off Sam’s face.

“You trust us?” Sam asked incredulously.  

“Nope, which is why I have a chaperone,” she chuckled, pointing at her blade.  She looked between the two of them when they didn't seem to get her joke and rolled her eyes.  “Stop pretending to be prudes, if you want to protect my honor, we’ll take turns sleeping.”  She climbed out of the car before Dean could object.  He met Sam’s gaze.

“Dude, what the hell?!” he whispered.

“I like her,” Sam said simply, “she doesn't put up with any of your crap.”  Dean glared at his brother as he climbed out of the car after Annika.   _ My crap?!  _

She was leaning against the trunk waiting, fingers on her gloved hand absently running through her hair.  She was pretty, in a rough around the edges way, lean and toned, but there wasn't anything that really sparked for Dean.  Maybe he was getting old, or maybe she just wasn't his type.  He didn't miss the way Sam’s eyes tried to avoid looking at the dip between her breasts from her blade’s strap, and Dean smirked.   _ Sammy, down boy. _

“I'll go see about a room,” Dean called out, walking towards the lobby.  The man behind the counter was about 15 years older than Dean, and barely spared him a tired look as he charged for the room.  Dean even splurged and got a roll out cot, hoping Sam wouldn't insist on Rock Paper Scissors to decide who used it.  He walked out to the car, waving the keys at Sam and Annika and gesturing upstairs.  They gathered up the bags they’d unpacked and followed behind him.

The room was fairly clean, no weird stains or ammonia smell, and Dean nodded in approval.  The cot was brought up by another equally unhappy looking motel employee, who wheeled it into the room and left without saying a word.  

“Thank you,” Dean called sarcastically.  Sam shook his head and set the cot up in the corner of the room.

“I’ll take the cot,” Annika said, nudging Sam out of the way once he’d finished so she could drop down on the small bed.  Dean and Sam both claimed one of the double beds, Sam starting to unpack his laptop.  

Dean was having trouble relaxing, the close quarters with someone he didn't know pushing his patience to the breaking point.  Not to mention he was starving.  He plastered a fake smile on his face and grabbed one of the keys for the room.

“I’m going to round up something to eat,” he announced.

“Oh, thanks!” Annika called, her eyes only briefly leaving her phone, and even though she was smiling Dean could  _ feel  _ her smugness.  Sam nodded in agreement with Annika’s statement and Dean stalked out the door with a huff.

There was a diner just around the corner, so he opted to walk, tapping the comforting metal of his gun tucked into his waistband.  His phone buzzed, a number he didn't recognize popping up on his caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Dean.”  Dean felt his brow furrow.

“Cas?  Where are you calling from?”  He heard a heavy sigh over the receiver.

“Charlie got me a new phone, I, uh, dropped mine and it bounced into the sewer.”

“The sewer?  Where were you?”  Dean was trying not to laugh, Cas sounded exasperated already, he didn't need to mock him further.

“We went to the store, I needed some ingredients for dinner.”  Dean was again struck with how bizarre it was to think of Cas doing something so normal as grocery shopping.  He found it somewhat… 

Nope, he was  _ not  _ using the word  _ adorable. _

“How'd that turn out?  Dinner, I mean,” Dean asked hurriedly.

“I had some minor success, Charlie ate some at least.”  Dean chuckled, his annoyance about his current situation relieved slightly at the mental image of Charlie’s face as she forced down whatever Cas had made.  Realizing that talking about the success of Cas’ cooking was probably not why he called, Dean got down to business.

“So what did you need, buddy?” he asked, making it into the diner, getting in line at the counter to make a to go order.

“Charlie said I should call to give you my new number, and to let you know that she’d managed to find a spell that used the ingredients Annika’s weapon is made of.”  Dean nodded, impressed by Charlie’s gumption.

“What's it used for?” he asked.  Cas paused.

“We’re not sure.  The translation of the text has been flowery at best, even I'm having trouble deciphering it.  All I've managed to make out is ‘cast off that which has vexed’.”  The diner was mostly empty, just a few patrons along the serving counter, cheesy 1950’s music echoing over the speakers.  Dean stepped up and ordered three cheeseburgers and fries, grabbing a slice of pie and a seat while he waited for the food.

“Just keep at it.”  Dean sensed there was something else Cas wanted to ask, but he was hesitating, so Dean waited, taking a bite of his pie.

“Dean… This spell work… It's very unique, and a lot of it is very old.  I find it strange that a hunter of the age you describe has accomplished all this.” 

“I don't know what to tell you, Cas.  She's admitted to having ‘special’ help, so that's not out of the equation.  And I didn't exactly  _ ask  _ how old she is.”

“Why not?”  Dean couldn't help but laugh at Cas’ innocence.

“Ask Charlie why not,” he chuckled.  “All I'm saying is that we've used spells,” he lowered his voice to a mumble, “hell we've  _ time travelled  _ to get stuff we needed before.  Doesn't mean she's instantly evil.”

“I suppose, but even at full power I-” Cas paused, and Dean’s guilt rose to the surface, killing his smile briefly.  “I would have had difficulty locating all the ingredients.”

“Well, we're a couple days out from the bunker, maybe when you get a closer look at it something will click.”  Dean didn't know who he was reassuring, Cas or himself.

“Yes, physical observation of the object might give me more insight,” Cas agreed, and the smile crept back up onto Dean’s face.  “Just… please be careful, Dean.”  Dean huffed another laugh to brush off Cas’ concern, waving at the server as his food was dropped in front of him.

“When am I not, Cas?”

“Do you really want a list, or-”

“Good night, Cas.”  

“Yes, good night, Dean.”  Dean slid his phone in his pocket and began his walk back to the motel.  He moved slowly, trying to hang on to the small piece of  _ happy  _ that had just wedged itself into his heart.

Because yeah, the demons were gone, Cas was learning the proper use of sarcasm, and he was feeling genuinely good, damn it.

Opening the door to the motel room, he dropped the food on the table with a flourish and pulled off his canvas jacket.  Immediately Annika was there, digging in the bag for the food and pulling hers out.

“Help yourself,” Dean sighed, grumpily.  Sam plopped in a chair and pulled the pilfered bag over, taking his food and sliding the rest over to Dean.

“Thanks,” she hummed sincerely, taking a huge bite of burger.  He wakes to the cooler for a beer and looked at her as she started to eat,  _ really  _ looked at her.  She wasn’t a large physical presence, especially in Sam’s clothes, but he could see the strength in her muscles, and the weight of the hunter’s life in her eyes _.   _ Aside from the strange weapon there really wasn’t anything  _ special _ about her other than that weird gut feeling Dean had.  “Take a picture, you creep,” she said without even looking at him.  Sam cleared his throat and Dean rolled his eyes, dropping into his chair to eat.  

Once the food was gone, Annika stood and gathered up her bathroom kit.  She pointed at the bathroom with a raised eyebrow, asking silently if Dean or Sam needed it, and they both shook their heads.  She shrugged, walking in the bathroom, the lock clicking behind her.  Once the water started running Dean caught Sam’s attention.

“What's your opinion on our new bunk mate?” he whispered.  

“Honestly, Dean, she's just a hunter,” Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair.  “We talked some of the cases she’s worked while you were gone, and she's done quite a bit.  Do I think there's more to her than she's telling?  Of course, she’s a hunter.  Do I think she's  _ lied _ to us?  No, I really don't.”  Dean studied Sam’s face for a moment, before nodding in agreement.

“Doesn't hurt that she's got that whole ‘bad girl’ hotness going for her,” Dean smirked but any indignant response from Sam other than the flush in his cheeks was cut off by Annika walking out of the bathroom, tucking her toothbrush away as she walked.  Sam stood and grabbed his bag, stalking into the bathroom, and Annika looked between the bathroom door that slammed in their faces and Dean.

“I take it I missed something?” she asked.  Dean shrugged innocently and she rolled her eyes, climbing onto her cot, tapping away at her phone.  Sam finished getting ready for bed, walking out of the bathroom in pajamas, and Dean stepped into the bathroom to pee and wash up, returning in his own sweats.  Normally he'd just sleep in his boxer briefs, but Annika’s cheeky eyebrow wiggle before she rolled over to sleep reminded him why he was wearing pants.  He didn't miss the look Sam furtively shot her way once her back was turned, either.  Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder as he passed, winking and nodding towards her, drawing another blush and a bitch face from Sam.  Dean turned and collapsed in his bed with a proud grin, drifting off to sleep quickly.

 

About halfway between their stop in Utah and Kansas, Dean nearly swerved off the road when Annika suddenly leaned forward into the front seat.  She'd returned Sam’s clothes, wearing her own well loved cargo pants and a tight fitting black shirt, her sword still slung over her shoulder.

“Got a case,” she announced over Dean’s cursing, holding her phone out to Sam.  Sam took it from her as Dean pulled over to compose himself.

“Doesn't matter if you kill us before we get there!” Dean snapped.  She shrugged, pointing at the phone as Sam scrolled through something.

“It's the right time of the month, looks like a classic werewolf kill,” she added.  Dean watched Sam’s brow furrow as he tapped a few things, trying to ignore the hunter between them.

“Seems legit, Dean.  And it's right off the interstate, on our way home.”  Sam looked up at him with  _ that _ look, the one that said he wasn't dropping this.  Dean sighed heavily, pulling back onto the highway. 

“Fine.  One stop.”  

 

She was right, Dean grudgingly admitted.  Simple open and closed werewolf case, surveillance footage caught part of the attack on film: the wolf was an old hermit who lived in the woods outside of town.  The local PD agreed to let them handle it, and they holed up in a motel to gear up for the hunt.  Dean switched the bullets in his gun out for silver bullets, refilling the clip in record time, Sam checking his silver knife and his own gun.  Annika didn't seem to be doing anything but playing on her phone, and Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“You planning on helping with this, or just sitting there looking pretty?” he snarked.  She rolled her eyes.

“Looking pretty is your job, Dean.”  She pointed at her blade.  “I'm good to go, whenever you guys are.”  Dean slid his clip back in his gun and checked it over one last time, chambering a round and tucking it away, his silver knife already hooked onto his belt. 

“Do you want to call Charlie?  Let her know we stopped?” Sam asked.  Dean frowned.

“Because she's my mother or something?  Why do I have to ‘check in’?”  Sam returned his scowl.

“Humor me,” Sam insisted.  The look in Sam’s eye hinted at an underlying reason, so Dean made a show of angrily agreeing, pulling out his phone as he stepped out of the motel room.  

“Well, hello, Dean,” Charlie hummed when she answered.

“Hey, we caught a case on our way home, we’re going to be another day,” Dean sighed.

“I know…” Charlie said, confusion in her voice.  “I thought you were calling about my text I sent Sam.”  Dean rubbed his forehead, realization dawning on him.

“Well, we have an Annika shaped buffer, Sam didn't say anything,” Dean sighed.

“Well, I thought-”  She was cut off by the muffled sound of Cas in the background.  “Yes, it's Dean,” she answered Cas.  “Here- hang on-”  There was some rustling and then the line cleared up.

“You're on speaker,” Charlie called, her voice echoing slightly.

“So what’s going on?” Dean asked, stepping further away from the motel room, pacing on the far side of the parking lot.

“It's about the markings,” Cas interjected.

“What markings?” Dean asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

“On the body?” Charlie said like it was obvious.  “Dean, you really just let Sam do  _ all  _ the legwork?”  He could hear Charlie’s eyes rolling.

“Shut up.  Okay so there were apparently markings on our wolf vic?”

“Very subtle, traced into the skin of the abdomen.  They were only noticeable in a few of the overexposed photographs.”  Cas’ voice was urgent, full of a little more purpose than the last few times Dean had called.  He could practically see the wrinkle in Cas’ brow as he talked, the frown he got when he was concentrating on something.  “Charlie translated them.  It's an ancient type of hieroglyph, but the words phonetically spelled out an enochian warning.”  

“We think someone was leaving a message,” Charlie interrupted.  Dean was paying rapt attention now.

“That seems like a lot of hard work to me.  Not to mention most people’s grasp of ancient pictographic enochian is a bit rusty.”  Charlie giggled at Dean’s sarcasm but Cas skipped right over it.

“Unless they only wanted it read by a specific person.”  Cas’ bluntness was appreciated sometimes, this being one of them.  Dean got a cold feeling in his chest.

“What did it say?”

“Simplified, it said: ‘You're slowing down, and now you're burdened.  We will catch up.’”

“Well that doesn't sound ominous or anything,” Dean groaned.  

“How well do you know your new buddy?” Charlie asked quietly.  Dean shrugged.

“I mean, it's only been about two days?  Not well enough to call it trust, but she hasn't given us any reason not to trust her either.”  The line was quiet, and when Cas spoke again, Dean was uncomfortable at the tone of his voice.

“She was the one that found the hunt, correct?”  

“Cryptic warning got you all nervous, Cas?” Dean chuckled to ease the tension, even though he wasn't amused by Cas’ observation.

“It's got me super freaked!” Charlie chimed in.  “I'm not saying she has something to do with it, but it never hurts to be too careful.”  Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Well, it'll make both of you feel better to know I plan on dumping her the moment we get to Topeka.”  He had considered taking her all the way to the bunker, but this revelation sealed the deal; she was not getting anywhere near Cas or Charlie until she proved herself.

“Just be careful, Dean.  Come home soon,” Charlie sighed.   _ Home _ .  Dean couldn't stop the smile, in spite of his new feeling of unease.  Even after spending nearly a year living in the bunker, he still wasn’t used to having a home.  A home filled with his family and friends.

The motel room door opened behind him, reminding him he wasn't really alone.

“Alright, gotta go,” he said quickly, tucking his phone away and wiping away his smile when Sam and- fuck it he's calling her Ann- walked out of the room.  “About time!” he called with fake impatience.  “Let's get this done with.”

 

They circled the cabin the werewolf lived in, checking the possible exits and peeking in the windows for lights or movement.  The air was deathly still, anticipatory, like the adrenaline in Dean’s system.  No matter how many hunts Dean has been on, every single time he feels that same thrill, the same rush.  It’s how he's stayed alive for as long as he has.  Through silent gestures and nods, Dean and Sam navigated the perimeter of the cabin, meeting up at the only door once their circle had finished.  Ann had hung close to Sam, graceful movements and alert concentration on her face, and Dean grudgingly admitted he was impressed with her focus.  Dean gently tested the porch steps, making it up to the landing silently, slipping his lock pick from his pocket, his gun tucked under his arm.  Sam stood back cautiously, gun drawn and pointed at the floor, and Ann was just to his side, her blade drawn, nostrils flared and eyes wide.  Dean popped the lock silently, nudging the door open and peering into the dark house.

The smell hit him almost like a slap to the face, his eyes watering at the intensity.  He managed to gasp air in through his mouth, holding back his gag reflex and keeping quiet.  Ann didn't seem too phased, stepping past Dean and into the cabin as he readjusted his gun in his grip, blinking the tears out of his eyes.  She hugged the wall of the entryway, peeking around the corner into the living room, arm raised to swing… then she sighed heavily and broke cover, waving Sam and Dean inside.  Dean took a few cautious steps into the house, nodding for Sam to move past him and clear out the only other two rooms in the cabin.  Sam came back, shaking his head and tucking his gun in his pants.  Dean stashed his gun, turning the corner Ann had already disappeared around.

A very dead werewolf was seated in the center of the floor, strange symbols drawn in a circle around him in blood.  Two bodies, human ones Dean was assuming, were laying mutilated on either side of the room, and Dean let out an audible gag as he struggled to keep his lunch from that afternoon in his stomach.

“What in the actual hell?” Sam coughed.  Ann was leaning over the symbols, poking at the gaping hole in the wolf’s chest with a rod from the fireplace, the iron rusting from disuse. The obviously self inflicted shotgun wound had made quick work of his heart and lungs, and the insect activity made Dean’s stomach turn.

“Silver buckshot,” she sighed, tossing the poker on the floor.  Stepping carefully around the bloody symbols, her eyes were studying the room, like she was looking for something.

“The way this place stinks, he's been here since that security footage was taken.  Almost two days,” Dean grunted, burying his nose in his elbow.  Sam took out his phone and snapped a few pictures, giving Dean a significant look.  Dean nodded in understanding, the symbols were the same as the ones on the body that brought them there.  Dean was watching Ann with rapt attention now.  “Did you know this guy?” he asked.  She looked up at him, her silver eyes focused and intense, and Dean physically took a step back.

“Yeah, he was a good friend of mine,” she snapped.  “Of course not, he was just some random wolf.  Though a crazy one apparently…”  

“Maybe he’d been living off animal hearts,” Sam reasoned, always the optimist.  “Lost control, and the guilt was too much?”  Ann’s eye roll was practically audible as she pushed past Dean to the kitchen, coming back with a container of salt.  

“Let’s burn these poor souls and get the hell out of here,” she muttered, gesturing at the two human bodies.

“That's it, we’re just gonna go?” Sam asked, surprise evident just under the gagging noise he’d made.

“The werewolf is dead,” she pointed out with a shrug.  “Means there's no case.”

“What the hell do you call all this then?” Dean snapped, gesturing at the symbols on the floor.  

“Seven layers of crazy?” she said matter of factly.  Dean crossed his arms over his chest, planting his feet, and she fixed him with a glare.  A few tense moments later, she not so gently shoved the salt into his chest.

“Fine, I'm going to wait outside where I can breathe.”  She brushed past him and Sam, stalking outside with a swish of her braid.  Dean and Sam’s eyes met across the hall.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean hissed once the door swung shut behind her.  Sam shrugged, continuing to snap pictures of the gruesome scene, face drawn up in a grimace.

“No idea, Dean.  But you can bet she has  _ something _ to do with this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll still with me? lol


	4. 4. Rest Stops and Werewolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooow it's been a while sorry guys.
> 
> Have a little backstory and a little canon-typical violence :)

_Sam_

 

Sam could practically feel the tension in the motel room, almost to the point it was suffocating him.  He was at the table, Annika on the couch to his left, Dean in his bed on Sam’s right, and he didn’t like being in the middle.  Annika was cleaning her weapons, seemingly ignoring the fact that the brothers were in the room with her, and Dean was, for lack of a better term,  _ pouting. _  Dean’s distrust had been evident from the beginning, and now that they’d all but confirmed that the werewolf was indeed leaving a message behind, he’d done nothing but glare in silence since.  Annika had seemed ready to leave town after they’d disposed of the body, and just a bit annoyed when they decided to stay the night.

Without the Men of Letters files, Sam was pretty useless, so he’d emailed the pictures to Charlie, hoping she and Cas could decipher them quickly now that they’d seen them before.  He doodled around on the laptop, trying to see if there were any similar mutilations or symbols found anywhere else.  Charlie’s super search engine was coming up bust with that, so he switched gears, focusing his search on their current roommate instead.

After that search had run for an hour with nothing to show for it, Sam grabbed the keys off the table and threw them at Dean.  The bitchface that earned him was pretty intense, but Sam met it evenly.

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Go get food or something, your brooding silence is making my head hurt,” Sam sighed.  Dean muttered under his breath something about being ‘thrown out of the room  _ he  _ was paying for’ but pulled on his jacket and left anyway.  Immediately the tension in the room eased, and Sam leaned back in his chair, watching the search program running its course.

“You’re brother’s a real joy to be around, isn’t he?” Annika asked, amusement in her voice. 

“He just doesn’t trust easy,” Sam shrugged.  “And that’s two hunts he got cheated out of since you’ve been around, so that probably counts against you.”  She rolled her eyes, reassembling a gun she’d been cleaning.

“Well, I don’t blame him for being careful, but he doesn’t have to be a dick about it.”  She tossed the gun in her bag with the rest of her things, falling back on the couch and stretching out her legs.  Sam glanced at her over the top of the laptop; she was staring at the ceiling, her gloved hand tracing patterns on the back of the couch lazily.  She had a confidence about her, a strength that made him want to trust her, even though he knew he shouldn't.  Her long brown hair was done up in a braid, hanging over her shoulder and running down the curve of her chest.  He clenched his jaw, Dean’s not so subtle nudges and lewd winks fresh in his mind.  So she was beautiful, he was a grown ass man, what was wrong with him noticing?

“Can I ask you something?” she said, breaking Sam’s line of thought, drawing a small blush to his cheeks.

“I guess.”  She sat up, turning to face him.

“I don't expect you two to trust me.  Hell, I don't trust you, for damn sure.”  Sam rolled his eyes but she ignored it.  “So why did you agree to let me come with you?”  Sam closed the laptop halfway to see her better.  Why  _ had _ they agreed to let her come along?   _ Curiosity?  Chivalry? _  He shook his head.

“I don't really know.  I think I wanted to help you, and my brother…”  Sam leaned back in his chair, deciding to open up to her a bit, see if that pulled any more truth out of her.  “You’re aware we closed the gates of Hell, but do you know how?” he asked, watching her closely.  She sat up a bit straighter and shook her head slowly, silver eyes focused on him.  “To make a long story short, I performed this series of trials, like Herculean but with demons.  To finish the trials and close the door, I was going to have to die.  I made my peace with it but…”

“Let me guess,” she said, a small smile just barely tugging at the corner of her lips.  “Dean didn't want to let you go, huh?”

“Course he didn't.  We got the job done with Cas’ help, but I think it kind of opened Dean’s eyes, almost losing the two of us.  It reminded him why we do this job.”  Sam shrugged.  “Now that Hell is boarded up and the demons are gone, to be honest I think he’s...relaxed a bit.”

“Gone soft?” she asked with a teasing smile.  Sam smiled too but shook his head.

“Not soft but… I guess optimistic.”  She nodded, looking down at her hands, her fingers tugging at her glove.

“I'd given up on optimism a long time ago, never did me any favors.  Hard work, adrenaline, sometimes a literal string coming off my jacket is how I've gotten by.”  Sam again hears the  _ truth _ in her words, her story just on the edge of being told.  He only hesitates for a moment before deciding to throw his cards all in.

“I'm not going to lie, the symbols we found at the cabin, and on the first body,” she goes still and Sam knows he hit on something, “we know they're a message.  Dean is convinced you're the one it's for, and I'm starting to agree.  What we can't figure out is why.”  She looks up at him, silver eyes flashing in the dim light, and just  _ stares _ at him, almost predatory.  He keeps her gaze, forcing himself not to flinch.  After a few tense moments, she looks away, relaxing back into the couch, and Sam lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“A story for another day,” she hums.  

_ Well, she didn't deny it. _

He opened the computer again and to his surprise, an article had come up in the search.  Sam opened the link to a newspaper article from 15 years ago, a girl fitting Annika’s description and another runaway, a boy named Jacob, were involved in an animal attack.   _ Well, that fits her story. _  He glanced at the photo, and suspicion flared in his chest again.   _ She didn't look like she’d aged a day _ .  He looks up at her again, an identical girl looking back at him from 15 years ago on the computer, and when she meets his eyes, she must see something there, because she sits up straight.

“How about you tell the story now?” he asked, turning the computer so she can see the article.  He can physically feel her sizing him up, and he keeps his face neutral even as his body tenses up.  She lets out a heavy sigh, her fingers tugging at the end of her braid.

“Jacob was my first true friend, basically the only one I've had my whole life.  I had been on the run for as long as I could be on the run, I didn’t have the time or luxury to trust anyone.”

“That's a hard life, even for a hunter,” Sam said quietly.  She shrugged it off and continued talking.

“I ran into Jacob one night at a shelter, and he was so optimistic in the face of everything.”  A wistful smile spread across her face.  “He somehow wormed his way into my daily routine.  I didn’t want him to follow me when I left, but follow me he did.  We made our way around the country, hitching, bussing, walking, just the two of us for two years.”  She paused, her expression darkening.  “We found a grimoire in an abandoned house one night.  Imagine our surprise when that shit worked!”

“Wait, so you found some witch’s old spell book and just decided to read a spell at random out of it?” Sam asked, incredulously.  

“We were kids!” she snipped, like it made it all okay.  She rolled her eyes at Sam and continued talking.  “We learned some spells, stuck our toes into this life without realizing what would happen.  He was so reckless, he reminded me what it was like to have fun, what it was like to live life instead of just surviving day to day.”  She paused, tugging at her glove on her left hand, anger edging her voice.  “A vampire hunting party happened upon us one night, tore his throat out before I could even blink, and I just...ran.  To this day I still don’t know how I got away.”  Sam shut the computer, standing to walk over to his bed across from the couch, sitting down slowly.  She closed off a little bit now that Sam was so close, but she didn't shy away or get angry, so Sam took it as progress.

“Did you love him?” he asked quietly.  She seemed to be honestly pondering the question.

“I think I did, in a way.  Maybe he loved me too, but we never really… we never crossed that line, into what could have been between us.  We both seemed content to just be us.”  Sam nodded.  He liked that his honesty about the symbols got her to open up, and figured maybe a bit more honesty on his part might win him some more information.

“I was in love once.  Like, real love, the kind that consumes you whenever you’re near them, and hurts you whenever they’re away.  And it was stolen from me, the same way my mother was.  And when I lost Jess I turned to revenge, I turned to this job to run from it.”  She eyed him, knowingly.

“You get your revenge?” she asked quietly.  He nodded.

“Eventually, yeah.”  He swallowed hard at the memories this was stirring up.  “How about you?” he asked just as quietly as she had.  She tugged at her glove again, and he made mental note of the nervous habit.

“I did.  Doesn’t help, does it?”  Sam was about to answer when Dean walked in, and he watched her close off the moment he walked in the door.   _ So much for that. _

“So I heard from Charlie,” Dean said without preamble, dropping the shopping bag he held in his hand on the table and immediately pulling his gun.  Sam and Ann were on their feet instantly.

“Dean, what the hell?” Sam shifted, moving to stand between them.  His brother was pissed, Sam could see it in the tightness around his eyes.

“You’re going to start talking, sweetheart,” Dean said to Ann, ignoring his brother for now.  “Otherwise I’ve got a bullet here with your name on it.”

“Dean, just tell me what’s going on,” Sam said, stepping further into Dean’s field of vision.  The gun dipped slightly, but Dean wasn’t backing down, his angry gaze shifting to Sam for only a moment.

“They translated the message!” Dean snapped, his eyes focused over Sam’s shoulder at Ann.  “Wanna know what it says?  It said ‘ _ You can't hide behind the Winchesters, we’ll kill them too’.   _ So tell me again why the  _ hell _ I shouldn’t shoot you?!”  Sam risked a look over his shoulder, surprised to see Ann looking almost  _ bored _ , and most definitely annoyed.

“Okay, yes, the message was for me,” she sighed, her admission not a total surprise, but still it made the moment Sam had shared with her seem _less,_ and he felt disappointed.  Her eyes met Sam’s, addressing him instead of Dean.  “I killed some big important wolf a while back, apparently he was the head of all the packs in Oregon or something.”  She held out her hands in a placating gesture, well away from the blade she always had on her back.  “Since then they've been after me.  I didn't figure you'd care, you two can hold your own.”  She was looking intently at Sam, like she was trying to force him to believe her.  “For the record, I didn’t come to you to use you as shields, I was just hoping for a quick ride away from there and you were convenient.”  Dean lowered his gun slightly, and Sam relaxed a bit, though his brother’s eyes were still hard.

“You lied,” Dean grunted, needing to get in the last word.  

“I never lied,” she insisted, crossed her arms with a frown.  “Everything I've ever said was true.  I just...  _ withheld _ something.  You telling me you wouldn't do the same?  Haven’t done the same?”  

“Don't Obi-wan me with that certain point of view shit!” Dean snapped.

“Dean, she has a point,” Sam finally interjected, and Dean lowered his gun, tucking it back in his waistband with an angry grunt.  There was a moment of tense silence, where Dean and Annika sized each other up, before Dean turned for the bag he’d dropped off, pulling out some Twizzlers.

“I'm still pissed,” Dean stated into the room, pulling a handful of the red candy out of the bag.  Sam felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease now that Dean had been talked down, and he knew they needed to bring the conversation back around to the more pressing issue of a werewolf pack being on their tail.

“Fine, be pissed, but let's all act like adult and figure this out like any other case,” Sam reasoned.  Dean’s jaw clenched, glaring at Sam for what he was sure Dean was perceiving as  _ siding with the enemy,  _ and Sam tilted his head in a silent  _ please.   _ Dean rolled his shoulders back, letting some of his anger go with it, and Sam blew out a heavy breath.

“So what are we talking here?” Dean asked Ann, dropping down to sit on his bed.  “One pack?  A handful of rogues?”

“I'm not sure,” Annika said, her voice still edgy, but tempered enough to be reasonable.  “I can't exactly get a count when I'm running for my life, all I know is for every one that goes down, another seems to show up and take its place,” Ann sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why the symbols?” Sam asked, turning to face Ann.  She shrugged

“The wolf I killed used it as a sort of code, made him feel special I guess, or maybe he was just that old.  It’s how I tracked him down.”  Her arms dropped to her sides in a gesture of defeat.  “Like I said, I don’t tend to stop and ask questions, I tend to just finish the hunt.”

“Could have at least mentioned something,” Dean muttered, and Sam shot his brother a bitch face.   _ What is he, a pouting five year old? _

“Now that we know, we’ll be more careful,” Sam interjected, looking at Ann with an apologetic shrug.  “And maybe we should head straight for home, no more stops,” Sam reasoned.  Dean’s eyes flashed when he mentioned home, and he knew it was because he was reluctant to take someone who was still a practical stranger to the bunker, near Cas and Charlie.  He chewed on another Twizzler while he made up his mind, standing up from his bed once he’d finished.

“Fine.  Pack up, we hit the road in ten,” Dean grunted, grabbing his duffle where he left it and stalking out to the car, candy in hand.  Sam turned, prepared to apologize to Annika, and was surprised to see she was already looking at him with the same apology in her eyes.

“Maybe I should just go, find my own way,” she sighed.  “If they know you’re with me...”  She seemed genuinely concerned, and that’s when Sam really noticed it, her walls were starting to come down.  Well, at least around him.  

“Let me talk to Dean, okay?  Just… hang tight for a moment.”  She nodded at Sam, and he ran a hand through his hair absently, packing his things in record speed, grabbing the bag of snacks and walking out to the Impala.  Dean was leaning on the front bumper, and raised an eyebrow at Sam when he came out alone.

“Let me guess, we’re going to have a talk,” Dean grumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Well, I think you kind of need one,” Sam scoffed.

“Oh, I need one?” 

“Yes, you do,” Sam insisted as Dean chuckled humorlessly.  “Listen, she hasn't done anything to hurt us, even though she's had ample opportunity.  Not to mention she's one bad ass hunter-”

“Don't leave out the part where you mention how unbelievably gorgeous she is, or how you get lost in those unique silver eyes,” Dean mocked with a sneer.  Sam set his jaw, a tendril of pain snaking up his left arm when he clenched his fist.

“What is it about her that's got you so irked?” Sam asked, completely baffled by Dean’s behavior.  “What has she done other than be damn good at her job?”

“She lied, Sam.”

“Technically she didn't, she just didn't tell us everything.  Half the time we’re keeping secrets from each other, you going to get all pissy and shoot me over it?!”  

“Don't be a jackass, Sam,” Dean grumbled.  

“You're the one being an ass, Dean,” Sam snapped.  “What has gotten into you?  I haven’t seen you this on edge since we shut the gates.”  Dean’s glare faltered, and he turned away from Sam, pacing a few steps before turning back.  

“I don’t know, I’m just not as ready to trust her as you are.”  Dean’s anger seemed to have deflated for the time being, and Sam decided to take what he could get and not press the issue.

“Look, at least stop being outwardly pissed at her, okay?  Enough to make this trip tolerable at least?”  Dean rolled his eyes but whatever he was about to say was cut off by Annika leaving the room with her belongings.

“If you're broment is over, can we go please?” she called.  Sam paused, noticing something in her voice that set his instinct tingling.

“What is it?” he asked.  She shook her head, looking around the parking lot.

“Call it a gut feeling,” she said evenly.  Dean shot Sam one last skeptical look and the three of them climbed into the Impala.

 

The drive this time was absolutely silent, and some hours later they were crossing over the Kansas state line.

“I gotta hit the head,” Dean announced, pulling into the next rest stop.  Sam suspected it had more to do with his internal debate about taking Annika near the bunker than using the bathroom, but he let it go.  The sun was just starting to go down, casting long shadows across the parking lot and grassy area at the rest stop.  Dean pulled the Impala up under a street lamp, and as soon as Sam climbed out of the Impala, a sense of unease hung over him.  

“I need to take a break as well,” Ann admitted, climbing out of the car.  Dean stalked off to the men’s bathroom, and Annika traded an uneasy look with Sam that matched his own mood before making her way to the women’s restroom.  Sam stretched out his legs and back, getting some blood flowing again as his eyes moved around the dilapidated little park.  Something felt  _ off _ , and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he peered into the evening gloom.  He felt for the reassuring weight of his gun and walked around the front of the Impala, eyes scanning the shadows at the corner of the field.  Maybe it was what Annika had said about being hunted that was making him uneasy, maybe there wasn't anything-

“ _ Sam!!”  _

Sam swore at the sound of Dean’s shout, pulling his gun and bolting for the bathrooms.  As he approached he heard the sounds of a struggle and a door slamming loudly, and by the time he'd turned the corner, the men's room door was shut, a fight obviously happening on the other side.  Sam tried to push the door open, but it was either locked or stuck.

“Dean!” he shouted, throwing himself into the door, with no result.  A few grunts and shouts that Sam hears are a woman’s voice, and he realizes that Annika must have run in to try and help.  “Dean! Annika!!” he shouts again, continuing to throw himself against the rusted metal.  There's a few more pained cries, then the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor.  The silence after gives him a boost of adrenaline, and the rusted latch on the door finally gives way.  He bursts through it and into the men’s room to see three bodies on the floor, Dean hunched over in a corner with a gash above his eye and half soaked from a broken sink, and Annika, standing in the center of the mess, bleeding down the side of her face.  Blood was dripping down her right arm and her drawn blade, and she was breathing heavy.

“Sammy,” Dean groans, reaching out a hand for Sam but not taking his eyes off of Annika.  Sam makes his way to his brother’s side, helping him up, wincing at the pained noise Dean made.

“What the hell happened?!” Sam asked.  Annika used her foot to turn over one of the bodies, and Sam noticed Dean’s silver knife lodged in its chest.

“Werewolves,” she said simply, bending to retrieve Dean’s knife, wiping it off on the werewolf’s clothes before handing it to him, handle first.  Dean took it, nodding silently at her.  Sam looked at the other two bodies, and he realized the stab wounds were too large to be made by Dean’s knife.  Plus the way Dean was looking at her with grudging respect filled in some of the blanks for Sam.

“ _ You  _ did this?” he asked her, utterly impressed.  She nodded, turning away and grabbing some paper towels to wipe off her own blade, taking a cursory swipe at her forehead wound.

“I was down, Sammy, almost the moment they showed up,” Dean grunted, wincing when he tried to take a deep breath.  “Then she walks in and bolts the door, and the fucking werewolves look  _ terrified _ .  That’s the only reason I was able to gank one before she stepped in.”  She had the grace to look embarrassed, at least, as she sheathed her blade.

“These guys weren’t much of a challenge,” she said simply.  She looked up at Sam, meeting his confused gaze with confidence, intensity in her silver eyes.  “I've been on my own my whole life, I had to become lethal.”  Sam heard the bitterness in her voice, something he was all too familiar with.

“How about we get out of here, huh?” Dean grunted an interruption, pointing towards the door.  She nodded, pulling her gaze away from Sam’s, stepping over the bodies and walking out.  Sam followed behind with Dean’s left arm draped over his shoulder, Dean keeping his right one tucked to his side in pain.  Annika kept scanning the rest stop as Sam loaded Dean into the passenger seat, Annika climbing in the backseat as Sam hopped in the driver’s side.  Sam pulled them out onto the highway, breathing a sigh of relief now that they were moving.  

“Well, that was a load of fun,” Dean grumbled as he checked out some of his visible injuries.  Annika pulled a few towels out of her bag, handing one to Dean and wiping at the blood on her own face and arm, wincing slightly as she wiped it off.

“Do you think they followed us?  I didn’t see anyone pull in the stop behind us,” Sam wondered out loud.  The whole situation didn’t really make any sense to him at all, there was no way they were followed out onto the highway, Dean was always super careful about that.  

“They were probably waiting,” Annika spoke up.  “A few pack members at each rest stop.” 

“Three for each rest stop all the way to Kansas?” Dean grunted, and Sam heard respect in his voice.  “You weren’t kidding around about pissing them off.”

“Story of my life,” she sighed.

 

As they approached Lebanon, Sam glanced at Dean, silently asking where to go, and Dean just grudgingly nodded his head.  It seemed that her saving Dean from three werewolves earned enough of Dean’s trust to make him okay with taking her to the bunker.

“Annika, you’re welcome to stay with us for a few nights, if you want.  At least till your trail runs cold,” Sam said, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.  She seemed mildly surprised, glancing at the back of Dean’s head.  

“Sure, thanks,” she said genuinely.  Dean texted Charlie to warn her about bringing home a third person, to get her and Cas prepared, and Sam pulled onto their dirt side street, driving them through the hidden entrance to the garage.  Annika seemed mildly curious, looking around as they pulled into the slot Dean had set aside for the Impala.  They all climbed out of the car, Sam moving around to the passenger side to help Dean.  Who of course swatted Sam’s hands away and pulled himself to his feet with a grunt of pain.

“Nice, you guys have a batcave,” Annika said as she climbed out of the car, nodding at Sam with an impressed look on her face.  Sam didn’t miss the proud look in Dean’s eyes before he winced in pain again, leaning heavily on the Impala.

“Dean?  Sam?  You guys okay?” Charlie called from the door, shotgun in hand.  Sam couldn’t help but smile when he saw her.  She may seem harmless on the surface, but the gun was steady in her hands and her face was all business.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” Sam answered, grabbing his and Dean’s things out of the car as Dean gingerly walked to the door.  Charlie caught sight of Annika and tensed up nervously.

“Charlie, this is Annika, a hunter,” Dean grunted.  “Annika, Charlie, Woman of Letters.”  Dean shuffled inside the door to the bunker, and Charlie perked up proudly at the reference.  

“Well, if she's with you, I'm gonna go stash the gun.  Pleasure to meet you!” Charlie said, turning and following Dean through the door.

“Woman of Letters?” Annika said from behind Sam, clearly impressed.  “So this must be a Men of Letters bunker.”  Sam looked over at her, slightly surprised that she’d heard of them.

“Yeah, it is.  Turns out our grandfather was in the Men of Letters, we kinda… inherited this place I guess.”  Sam started walking for the door, motioning for her to follow, but she hesitated, lingering by the Impala.  Now that it was just the two of them again, Sam could see her bravado fading slightly.  

“Look, Sam, I just want to say I appreciate this,” she said quietly, her voice serious, no trace of sarcasm or insincerity.

“Of course, it’s not like we don’t have the space,” Sam chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.  She only half smiled, before it faded again.

“It’s just...maybe I should just go.  Dean’s gratitude will wear off and he’ll just be a grumpy whiner if I stick around too long.”

“You saved his life,” Sam pointed out, “he’s got no room to complain.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have needed saving if I wasn’t around.”  Sam opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't come up with anything to say against that.  She smiled sadly, and Sam noticed the subtle guilt in her words.  “I’m not used to having other people to worry about.”

“Look, the bunker is safe,” Sam insisted, taking a few steps back towards her with a smile on his face.  “Nothing is getting in to come after you, or us.  If you want to leave that’s fine, I just thought you might like to sleep at least one night knowing no one is after you.  I know how exhausting that kind of life can be.”  She let out a heavy sigh and half smiled.

“Alright, you've convinced me, Sam.”  She hefted her bag.  “Lead the way.”  Sam smiled and turned back to the door, walking into the bunker proper.  Dean was talking as they turned the corner into the map room.

“-it’s fine, it’ll heal.  I just need some sleep is all.”

“I’ve been learning basic first aid, I could help.”

“Cas, I said I’m fine.”  Sam chuckled at the banter between his brother and the former angel.  Their bickering was usually because Cas was doing just fine, and Dean was hovering like a mother hen.  Sam may or may not enjoy it a bit too much when the tables were turned.

“You sure?  You don’t look fine,” Charlie laughed.  Cas was trying to reach out and touch Dean’s injured side, while Charlie crowded him from the other side to cut off his escape, and Dean’s face was flushed bright red at the attention.

“I just need a drink and some sleep,” Dean insisted, swatting away both Cas and Charlie’s hands.

“Cas is just trying to help, Dean,” Sam chuckled, ignoring his brother’s scowl.  “Maybe it would help if we got him a stethoscope and some cowboy boots…”  Dean’s face turned crimson and Sam and Charlie shared a small high five.

“Is there something wrong with your heart?” Cas asked Dean seriously, then his brow furrowed in confusion, “and what would the cowboy boots be used for?  I assure you the shoes I’m wearing are sufficient for my needs.”

Sam, Annika, and Charlie all exploded in a fit of laughter, and Dean muttered something that sounded like  _ going to kill you all  _ as he headed for the bedrooms.

“It’s a TV show,” Charlie said to Cas, waving for the angel to follow her towards the medical examination room where they kept the first aid kits.  Charlie’s explanation of the show faded to quiet as they walked away, and Annika was grinning at Sam when he turned to look at her.

“Are the three of them always this entertaining when they're in the same room together?” she laughed.  Sam shrugged, leading her towards the hallway where Charlie’s room was, to find a spare room for Annika.

“You have no idea,” he sighed with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dean... he kinda suffers the short end of the stick when it comes to bunker fluff XD 
> 
> Remember to comment! <3


	5. 5. A Hell of a Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie, dudes, another update fairly quickly! Enjoy your first little Destiel teaser XD

  _Dean_

 

As soon as Dean was far enough down the hallway from everyone, he felt his whole body sag, his injuries leaving him exhausted.  It wasn’t fair for Charlie, Cas,  _ and  _ Sam to gang up on him like that, especially when he was injured.  He winced on every step and by the time he got to his room, he was ready to just collapse and pass out.  He was  _ definitely  _ getting too old for this.  

He closed the door behind him and leaned on it heavily to catch his breath before gently kicking off his boots, slowly peeling himself out of his grimy jacket and button up shirt.  Dean couldn’t stop the pained gasp from escaping him when he lifted his dirty tshirt over his head, turning to the mirror and admiring the bruise blossoming on his right side.  It wrapped all the way around from the edge of his not-quite-so defined abs to his back, where the curve of the sink had hit him.  Dean met his own worried eyes in the mirror.  

“Losing a step, Winchester,” he muttered to his reflection.  He tried not to think about what would have happened if Ann hadn’t walked in when she did.  Dean’s scepticism about her taking care of herself had evaporated in the 45 seconds it had taken her to subdue and kill the werewolves.  She moved with grace and purpose, no hesitation in the way she wielded her blade, beautiful and efficient.  If the werewolf pack knew of her, knew how she fought, it was no surprise they looked terrified when she walked in.  Seeing her fight, it suddenly made sense how she was able to take out the whole nest of vampires the night Sam found her.  And grudgingly, it also earned her some of Dean’s respect.

A knock sounded on his door, distracting him from his musings.

“What?” he grunted.

“Dean?”  Cas’ low baritone sounded nervous, probably from Dean’s embarrassed reaction earlier, and Dean felt a little guilty.

“Come in, Cas,” Dean sighed, turning to face the door.  “They all done having their laugh?” he asked grumpily, standing up taller and trying not to wince.  The ex-angel walked into Dean’s room, shutting the door behind him.

“Charlie explained the nature of their joke, though I don’t quite understand the humor.  Perhaps I should watch this ‘ _ Dr. Sexy, MD’ _ ,” Cas said, his brow etched in concern when he caught sight of the bruises covering Dean’s torso.  Dean held off on the sarcastic remark he was about to make.

“Not pretty, is it?” Dean said instead, attempting to play it off with a smirk.  Cas either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“What happened?” Cas asked, moving across the room.  Dean was slightly taken aback by the worry in Cas’ eyes.

“Couple of werewolves used me to break a sink,” Dean chuckled, walking over to his stash of whiskey and pouring himself a healthy glass.  “Apparently porcelain trumps human body.”  He hissed as the alcohol burned it's way down his throat.  For a moment, regret cast a shadow on Cas’ face; it was gone almost as fast as Dean saw it, but he still saw it.  He was learning to read the ex-angel now, as Cas’ human emotions won out over his old angelic stoicism.  Dean knew, in that regret, was Cas’ wish that he had his grace to heal Dean’s wounds.  Dean tried to think of something to say to him, about how Dean didn't care about his powers being gone, but everything he was coming up with sounded too awkward or insincere, so he gave up.  He never talked about feelings before, why bother starting now?  

At least that’s what he tried to convince himself, to ignore his own guilt.

“I brought some first aid supplies, I didn’t know what you would need,” Cas said cautiously, holding up the kit in his hands.  The reminder of his injuries made Dean focus on the pain again, a dull ache running up his side.

“What makes you think I need it?” Dean chuckled, ending on a pained wince.  Cas’ brow furrowed in confusion and Dean rolled his eyes.  “Alright, you really want to help, knock yourself out,” Dean sighed, dropping carefully onto the edge of his bed.  Cas moved forward, setting the kit on the bed next to Dean before kneeling to examine Dean’s wounds.  His eyes traced the superficial cuts on his forehead and arms first, his hands slowly moving to test the damage to Dean’s ribs.  Dean tried not to shy away from Cas’ touch, his fingers were strangely cool where they brushed his skin.  In fact, the cool touch felt kind of good, in spite of the pain where those fingers traced his bruise.  Cas was completely focused on his own hands, a slight furrow to his brow as he felt at the bones underneath the bruise.  A firmer pressure on his ribs made Dean grunt into his last swallow of whiskey.

“Nothing appears to be broken,” Cas sighed, seeming relieved.  He dug into the medical kit, pulling out some peroxide, cotton balls, and a bottle Dean didn't recognize.  Dean took the peroxide and cotton balls from Cas.

“I can get my forehead, thanks,” he sighed.  Cas nodded, opening the second bottle.  Dean pulled away slightly.  “The hell is that stuff?” he asked warily.

“Arnica cream,” Cas said matter of factly.  “It helps with bruising.”  Dean raised an inquisitive eyebrow and Cas shrugged, a human gesture that still looked strange on him, “I've been doing some reading on basic human care, in case I need something and I'm alone.”  

_ There’s the guilt again. _

Dean did his best to hide it as he poured some peroxide on a cotton ball, dabbing at his eyebrow.  Cas waited for Dean to finish with his cuts, watching closely, curiously, as the peroxide fizzed.  Dean started to feel a little unnerved by the attention being paid to his every movement, but realized Cas was simply watching to learn.  Dean set the bottle down and turned on the bed so he had his back mostly to Cas.

This was going to be uncomfortable, but there was no way around that.

“Okay, if you really want to keep playing doctor, just get the part I can't reach,” Dean grunted.  Cas hummed a confirmation and there was a brief silence in the room.  He couldn't see what Cas was doing, and jumped slightly when the cool cream made contact with his skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Cas asked, pulling his fingers away.  Dean shook his head.

“Nah, man, just cold is all,” he brushed it off.  Cas’ fingers returned, surprisingly gentle as they spread the cream over Dean’s back.  

“Sam seems to trust Annika,” Cas says simply, immediately pointing at the elephant in the bunker.  Dean shrugged his left shoulder.

“I guess.  I wasn't with them the whole time, I'm assuming they talked while I was gone.  Maybe she said something that made up his mind.”  Cas’ fingers left his skin to gather more cream from the bottle.

“You still don't trust her,” Cas said simply, fingers sliding along Dean’s side now.  He suppressed a shiver as Cas’ fingers bumped along his bruised ribs.

“I don't know, maybe?” Dean sighed.  “I want to, it’s just...it’s always been harder for me than for Sam,” he finished lamely.  Cas handed Dean the bottle, letting him finish the front half of his bruise.

“How long is she staying here?” Cas asked as Dean spread the lotion across his stomach.  Dean shrugged, looking over at Cas to hand him the bottle back.  Cas was kneeling next to him, looking up at him with that weird, unwavering gaze. 

Suddenly, the fact that Cas had just spent the last ten minutes rubbing lotion into Dean’s skin just got a whole lot more awkward.

“I don’t know, a day?  A couple days?” Dean said, standing and moving to the sink to wash the excess lotion off his hands, and to hide his discomfort.  “Provided she doesn’t do something to piss me off.”  Cas hummed thoughtfully behind him, and Dean dried his hands, turning back to Cas who had at least gotten off the floor.

“I finished the warding,” Cas said, packing up the first aid kit as he spoke.  “It's painted in an invisible paint over each of the bunker entrances.  The warding can't be touched by an angel, but if the door is opened from the inside, it will allow an angel to pass.”  Dean went to his dresser and pulled out a clean shirt, slipping it over his head slowly to avoid pulling his bruised skin taut, grabbing a clean pair of jeans to replace the dirty ones he was still wearing.

“Great work, Cas, that’s one less thing to worry about,” he said, feeling more at ease now that he was wearing a shirt, and feeling better knowing the bunker was just a bit safer.  “Thanks,” he muttered, gesturing at his side.

“Of course,” Cas said simply.  He looked like he was about to say something else when Dean’s door opened slowly, Charlie’s head peeking around it.

“Dean, you decent- oh, hey Cas,” she said, smiling at the two of them as she walked in.

“Good to know if I wasn’t decent you would have just waltzed right in,” Dean murmured.  Charlie ignored his grumbling.

“Sam and Annika are going for dinner, I was sent to find out if you wanted anything specific?” she asked.

“Whatever they pick up is fine,” Cas said, glancing at Dean briefly before leaving the room. Whatever Cas had wanted, apparently it wasn’t an emergency.  Dean suddenly felt  _ completely  _ exhausted, his bed looking mighty inviting.

“You know I’m not picky,” he murmured sleepily, “wake me when they get back.”  Charlie nodded and walked out.  “And next time knock first!” Dean called after her, shutting and locking his door.  He dropped his filthy, sink water covered pants and boxers, pulling on a clean pair of boxer briefs.  He crawled into bed, half dressed as he was, asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

 

Annika stayed with them for three days, and everyone, including Cas, had warmed up to her almost immediately.  She made herself useful at least, helping with sorting through lore that Charlie was having struggles identifying, showing Sam some of her spell work she’d picked up over the years, and for the most part staying out of the way.  She and Cas spent one of the days going over her weapon, Cas explaining to Dean that she had been telling the truth about the makeup of her blade.  While Cas was still unsure of the spell attached to the blade, he had determined there was nothing malicious about it.

Sam was spending  _ a lot _ of time with her. Dean found them in the library, in Sam’s room watching TV, and coming back from runs together.  It wasn't Dean’s business, but the longer she stayed, the more Dean was able to learn about her simply through observation.  She wasn't one to settle in anywhere, to stick around, and the more attached his little brother got, the more it was going to suck for Sam when she left.  Dean was not looking forward to that.

Dean still couldn't figure out the  _ why  _ behind her actions, and it was starting to bother him more than he'd like.  Any lingering hostility between him and Ann had faded at least, a mutual agreement not to step on the other one’s toes.  She was polite, civil when sharing information, answering almost any question Dean asked.  But as soon as Dean would start to relax, he'd catch a glimpse of something in her eyes when she thought no one was looking.  It burned hot, but wasn't angry, more of a cold determination, much like the look in his father’s eyes close to the end of the hunt for the demon.  That look that said no matter what got in her way, or how tired or beat down she was, she was going to reach her goal.  

Dean just couldn't figure out what that goal was.  

Other than Annika’s presence, life at the bunker was the same, fairly boring routine it was before they left for the vampire hunt.  Dean called and checked on Kevin, who was still with his mom, though from the sound of his voice the visit was starting to wear him out, so he’d probably be back soon.  Dean did some work on the Impala, then spent time looking over and appraising the rest of the cars.  

As much as he hated to think of getting rid of them, he had to admit Sam had a point; they were taking up space and not being used.  The money wouldn't hurt either, and when he looked into how much he could get for some of the cars, it made up his mind.  He spent a day washing them and taking some pictures, finding a few car enthusiast websites that seemed to be full of people who would  _ respect  _ these cars. Cas had joined him one afternoon, jotting down notes for Dean about each different car; the type of engine, any problems they had, any servicing they needed.

Dean also made sure to check  _ everywhere _ in each one for a hidden hunter’s stash.  Having a prospective buyer find a collection of knives and holy water probably wouldn't bode well for him.

Cas seemed honestly curious about what Dean was doing, and ended up asking a lot of questions about what each of the specs Dean was listing meant, what made some better than others.  Walking Cas through the basics of engines, proudly explaining what made Baby so great, put Dean in his element; he forgot all about Ann, tuning out everything but educating Cas.  Cas’ brow was heavy in concentration, but when he'd look up at Dean he’d smile, like he was happy Dean was taking the time to show him all this.  Dean hadn't realized how big his own smile had gotten until Sam walked in to call them for dinner and teased him for the goofy grin on his face. 

Sam then proceeded to dig at him all through dinner for blushing when being called out on it, much to Charlie’s amusement.  Ann simply shook her head, staying neutral about the whole thing, and Dean had to admit that he was at least a little grateful for that.  

Dean got stuck with dish duty, scrubbing away at plates and pots, letting the menial chore help focus him.  He was lost in thought when a soft noise behind him made him turn.

“Can't sneak up on me as well as you used to,” Dean said with a smile.  Cas walked over to a chair and sat.

“I wasn't trying to surprise you,” he said simply.  Dean was down to the last few coffee cups, and he stayed quiet, waiting for Cas to keep talking.  Of course he didn't, just sat silently behind Dean, and for some reason knowing Cas was watching him made his skin buzz and his cheeks flush.

“Did you want something?  Watching me wash dishes can't be that entertaining,” Dean said, covering his discomfort with sarcasm.  

“I had a request, but it can wait until you're finished,” Cas said, a little uncertainty in his voice.  Dean set the last cup on the rack to dry, toweling off his hands and turning to face Cas.  He was uncharacteristically nervous, and Dean smiled reassuringly.

“What's going on?” Dean asked.  Cas stood, looking so much smaller and vulnerable in his jeans and tshirt, the trenchcoat no longer there to provide a sort of armor.  Dean wasn't ever going to get used to seeing Cas so... _ human. _  He would always be something more than that to Dean, even if his grace never returned.

“If you're no longer inclined, it's fine, but you had mentioned teaching me how to use a gun.”  Cas tried to play it cool, but it was obvious he was eager to take Dean up on that offer.  Dean tossed the towel on the counter, smiling at Cas and walking up to pat him on the shoulder, his hand lingering just a moment to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Sure, Cas.  Lemme grab a few guns and I'll meet you in the range.”

“Actually,” Cas said quickly, making Dean stop before leaving the kitchen, “I took the liberty of setting a couple out.”  

“Alright then,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head, “lead the way.”  The corner of Cas’ lips turned up in a small smile, and he and Dean walked down past the map room, following the lower hallway down to the firing range.  A couple of handguns and a shotgun were sitting out on the counter, a couple of fresh targets hung from the chains in the back of the range.  Cas walked over to one of the cabinets, returning with a couple pairs of earplugs, handing a set to Dean.  

“Charlie explained to me the need to protect my hearing,” Cas said, putting one of the earplugs in.  Dean covered his hand before he put the second one in.

“Just one, for now, so I can talk to you,” Dean explained, putting an earplug in his right ear.  “Now, basic gun safety: don't point it at anything unless you are totally okay with shooting said thing,” Dean said.  He picked up one of the guns, preparing to explain to Cas about the safety and how to release the magazine, but before he could even open his mouth, Cas grabbed the other hand gun, field stripped it, and reassembled it.  It took him a little longer than Dean, and he fumbled a couple times getting the barrel back on, but it was efficient and impressive.  Dean just stood and stared, eyebrows up to his hairline, unbelievably surprised by the angel.  Cas looked up once he was finished, cheeks slightly pink, fidgeting a little.

“I hope you don't mind, but Charlie helped me get a head start while you were away,” he explained, his fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, a nervous human habit Cas had picked up.  “I haven't actually used it yet, she insisted I wait for you.”

“Course I don't mind,” Dean chuckled.  “She took care of the boring part, now it's my turn to do the fun part.”  He put his other earplug in, Cas mirroring his action.  Dean gestured for Cas to pick up the gun again.  “I'm assuming you know about the safety then?” he asked.  Cas nodded, clicking the safety off and holding the gun out in front of him.  Dean appraised Cas’ stance, attempting not to chuckle out loud.  “If you try to shoot  _ this _ gun with  _ that _ grip, the recoil will toss the gun right back in your face,” Dean pointed out.  He nudged Cas’ leg with his foot.  “Widen your stance a bit...there you go.  Now, straighten your right elbow… Good, okay, now adjust your left hand a little lower...okay.  Let's give this a go, shall we?”  Cas nodded, and Dean took a couple steps back.  “Now remember, squeeze the trigger, don't pull it,” he added.  Cas’ brow furrowed as he focused on the target, firing off two shots.  Dean walked back up, peering at the paper torso, noting that one bullet hit just barely grazed the corner high and right, the other must have hit the wall.

“That's...a lot harder than it looks,” Cas said, turning to Dean with wide eyes.  Dean smiled and shrugged, picking up the other gun.  He held it out in front of himself, lining up his shot.

“See how I'm bracing for the recoil?” Dean said, nodding towards his stance.  Instead of just looking, though, Cas reached out and ran his hand over Dean’s right arm, from his shoulder down to his fingers and back.  The whole thing took only a couple seconds, and Dean couldn't even react before Cas was pulling his hand away.

“Yes,” Cas answered the question a moment later, seemingly oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.  Dean cleared his throat and shook of the ghost of Cas’ touch, turning his attention back to the target.  He grouped three shots right over where the heart would be, lowering the gun with a small smirk.  Cas nodded, picking up his gun again and holding it out.  It was much better than the first time, but before he even pulled the trigger Dean could see Cas was going to miss wide to the right again.  Cas frowned at the target after firing off his shots like it had personally offended him, and Dean huffed a small laugh.

“You're trying too hard,” he said gently, “take your stance again.”  Cas held the gun out, and Dean looked him over critically.  “Your shoulders are too tense,” Dean pointed out.  Cas rolled his shoulders, but in doing so started gripping the gun too tightly.  Dean knew what would help, made obvious by how Cas had touched his arm.  Closing his eyes and bracing himself against a weird flutter of nerves, Dean stepped behind Cas, moving in close.

“Dean?” Cas asked, visibly tensing when Dean entered his personal space.  Dean would have laughed if he wasn't feeling so damn flustered.

“Relax here,” Dean said, resting his hands on Cas’ shoulders.  He left them there until the tension eased, then moved his hands down to Cas’ arms.  “Straighten this out here...there you go, now support the gun here…”  As he manipulated Cas’ arms, their proximity set his brain buzzing.  

He tried not to think about how his chest was pressed to Cas’ back.  

He tried not to think about the whiff of the Old Spice body wash Cas used.  

He tried not to think about the heat in his cheeks, the slight tremble in his hands.

He tried not to think about how Cas’ breaths were coming a bit shorter and heavier, not by much, but just enough to notice.

He tried not to think about how fucking romcom this whole stupid situation was.

And he tried  _ desperately _ not to think about how... _ nice _ it felt.

“Like this?” Cas asked, and Dean removed one of his hands, the other still helping support Cas’ right arm.  Out of instinct and with nowhere else to put it, Dean's left hand came to rest on Cas’ side.

“Give it a try,” he said quietly.  “Squeeze the trigger on an exhale.”  Cas took a deep breath, and on his exhale he took his shot.  The bullet ripped through the right side of the target’s gut, into his fake kidney, but it hit the target.

“I hit it!” Cas said happily, turning his head to smile at Dean.  

_ Too close too close too close. _

Dean pulled away from Cas, taking a few brain cleansing steps back and releasing the breath he'd been holding when Cas pulled the trigger.  Cas had shifted when the gun went off, and while Dean was pretty sure Cas hadn't noticed,  _ HE  _ had definitely felt the moment Cas’ body pressed fully flush to his, chest to back, hips to ass.  He hoped he wasn't blushing too badly.

“Good job,” Dean nodded, making himself smile reassuringly.  “Did you feel how the gun tries to pull your hands?”  

“Yes, thank you,” Cas nodded.  There was color in Cas’ cheeks too, but Dean didn't know if it was from finally making a shot, or from what had just happened.

“Go ahead, try a couple more times,” Dean insisted, gesturing back at the target.  Cas picked up the gun, taking his time to set up his stance, and took a couple more shots while Dean watched from a very safe distance away.  His skin was still tingling from the feel of Cas in his arms, and he wasn't anywhere near drunk enough to contemplate what that implied.  Cas landed a few more shots on the target, all fairly decent shots to the gut, and he turned to Dean with pride on his face, something he hadn't seen for almost as long as he'd known Cas.  Dean wasn't going to let his discomfort take away from his best friend’s moment, so he grinned back and pat him on the back, like nothing was wrong, like his brain wasn't replaying the feel of their bodies pressed together.

They packed up the guns, Dean promising to help Cas with shotguns once he'd gotten a bit better with pistols, and they both made their way upstairs.  Dean stopped at his room, and Cas at his a few doors down.

“Thank you for your help, Dean,” Cas said across the small distance, a genuine smile on his face.  Dean smiled back and nodded.

“Anytime,” he said back, walking into his room and shutting the door behind him.  He locked up and scrubbed a hand over his face.

_ What in the actual hell? _

He was aware that things had changed between them when Cas became human.  He knew he had started seeing Cas differently, more  _ real _ somehow.  It wasn't until he'd held Cas in his arms that he'd realized just  _ how _ differently.

Cas had done so much for them over the years, from the beginning where he’d rebelled against the angels to help Dean, to the night in the church, where he'd unhesitatingly risked his life to save the person most important to Dean.  Before his fall, Dean had attributed those decisions to a sense of duty, of Cas trying to live up to what was expected of him.  After, seeing Cas’ emotions start to peek through, Dean began to realize that maybe he'd done all those things simply because he wanted to.  That he had risked his life for Sam simply for Dean’s sake, because he didn't want Dean to live without his brother.

The repercussions of that were overwhelming.  Cas was family to Dean, but what he’d done surpassed that in a way Dean wasn’t ready to accept.

Dean pulled off his overshirt and his jeans, crawling into bed and turning off the light.  His brain unhelpfully kept replaying the feeling of holding Cas in his arms, and it wasn’t because it was awkward, or made him uncomfortable.  It had felt surprisingly normal, it hadn’t taken any second thought to rest his hand on Cas’ side, to hold him close.  It felt... _ good. _

He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes and  rolled over, stopping that line of thought right now, because nothing was going to come of it.

 

The next morning, Dean stumbled into the kitchen to find Ann cooking breakfast.  She didn’t have her blade slung over her shoulder, and she looked oddly naked without it, but the significance of her leaving it behind wasn't lost on Dean.  She was starting to trust them, too.  The smell of bacon and fresh brewed coffee helped clear some of the previous night’s fog from his head, and he walked over to the coffee pot to pour himself a much needed cup.

“Nice robe,” Ann chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the Men of Letters robe he was wearing.  He pulled it tighter around himself with one hand as he carried his coffee to the table, not bothering to reply.  “Have a rough night?” she teased gently.   _ You mean did I have a freaking panic about my changing feelings towards my best friend?  _ Dean thought to himself, but instead just shrugged, sipping at his coffee.  “Fine, I can deal with the silent treatment,” she hummed.  Ann moved around the stove a bit longer then walked over with a plate of fried potatoes, eggs, and bacon, setting it in front of Dean.

“Thanks,” he said simply, hoping he didn't sound too impressed.  She nodded, taking the pans off the heat and making herself a small plate, joining him at the table.

“You always up this early?” she asked, popping a potato in her mouth.  Dean glanced up at the clock, noticing it was 6:10am.  He shrugged, munching on some bacon.

“Sometimes.  Are you?” he countered.  She nodded, popping a few more potatoes in her mouth and chewing.

“I'm not used to getting a lot of sleep at once,” she said simply once she'd swallowed.  “Two, maybe three hours at a time.  Little power naps.  Haven't been able to stay still in one place for a while.”  Dean looked up and met her eyes, the silver a bit duller in the poor kitchen lighting.

“So being here for four days must feel like forever to you,” Dean pointed out quietly.  

“Surprisingly, being buried underground with a couple of the most dangerous hunters in the country hasn't been as horrible as I might have thought,” she teased, eating a bit more before continuing.  “I gotta be careful, though, I don't want you boys to adopt me like all the others here.”  Dean rolled his eyes, but found himself smiling slightly.  Hell, maybe she was growing on him, too.

They finished eating in comfortable silence, her food was pretty good and Dean focused on eating it before it got too cold.  He also just didn't feel up for talking that morning, because all his brain was thinking about was a warm, masculine body held in his arms, and a pink cheeked warm smile.  He hoped he'd be able to pull himself together before Charlie got up, because she would want to talk about Dean’s funk, and bringing up what happened last night would make it too real.  If he just let it be, ignored it, he wouldn't have to deal with it, at least for now.  Dean stood and moved to the sink when he was finished, washing his dishes and pouring out a second cup of coffee.  Annika went back to the stove, cracking a couple more eggs in the pan and scrambling them.

“Where are you going to go when you leave?” Dean asked.  In spite of all her talk, he could tell she was getting antsy to get going.  He recognized it in her because he used to be the same way before they'd found the bunker, always looking for the next hunt, ready to move on.  She shrugged a shoulder, adding a few things to the eggs as they cooked.

“I have a storage facility in North Carolina; got a few ingredients for a spell to pick up from there.  Last binding on my blade,” she explained.  “It’s why I was out west in the first place, I had found the final ingredient I didn't have yet.”  Dean nodded, sipping at his second coffee.

“What does the binding do?” he asked.  She just smiled, but it wasn’t teasing or happy, it was almost… sad.  

“Makes my every dream come true,” she said airily.  Dean was about to ask about it again when he heard shuffling coming from the hallway, and Ann turned away from Dean to finish with the food.

“Morning,” Sam yawned, walking into the kitchen.  Ann smiled at Sam and set the plate down on the table.  “Oh, thanks,” Sam chuckled, grabbing his own cup of coffee and sitting down, watching her as she smiled at him and moved her dishes to the sink.  

“You're welcome, sir.”  The mild flirting that had been going on for days was starting to mildly get on Dean’s nerves.  Those two needed to relieve that sexual tension, not to mention Sam needed to get a move on if she was leaving.  He watched his brother watch her while her back was turned, and realized that maybe Sam didn't  _ know  _ she was going to leave soon.  

_ When did my life turn into a fucking soap opera?! _

“I’m going to go shower,” Dean announced, draining his second cup of coffee.  When Sam looked over at him, Dean gestured at Ann and raised his eyebrows.  Sam’s cheeks pinked and he rolled his eyes at Dean, turning his attention back to Ann.  Dean sighed and walked out of the kitchen; Sammy’s lack of a love life was his own problem, and it wasn't something Dean needed to worry about.

Dean stopped by his room, grabbing a set of clothes and walking down to the bathroom.  A shower was already running, steam misting the mirror in front of the line of sinks.  “Cas, you in here?” Dean called towards the line of shower stalls.

“Yes,” came Cas’ reply, echoing off the tiled walls.  Dean and Sam had rigged up some shower curtains when they were no longer going to be the only ones living in the bunker, and each of the open shower stalls now had a white curtain blocking the entrance.  Dean brushed the coffee off his teeth, the bathroom going silent as the water shut off.  Dean draped a towel over his shoulder and turned for the line of showers, his body wash and shampoo already in one of the stalls.  Cas was walking towards him, nothing on but a towel slung around his hips for privacy.  Explaining why privacy was necessary to an angel who had never thought about his body as his own was  _ such  _ a fun conversation those first couple days after Cas woke up, right up there with boxers or briefs.  Cas’ hair was still dripping, the water running down his neck to his bare chest in steady drips, a tiny puddle forming around each step he took.  Dean kept his eyes focused away from Cas’ body, last night’s complicating physical encounter too fresh in his mind.  Cas stepped to the side, his back against the wall, so that Dean could walk by, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Cas said quietly.  Dean blinked, surprised by Cas’ embarrassment.  Dean had seen him shirtless before, when they all got their tattoos, and it wasn't like Cas to be so self conscious.  Dean walked past him, stepping into one of the stalls and hanging his towel on a peg drilled into the wall, just far enough away that it wouldn’t get wet.  He heard Cas leave the bathroom as he stripped, setting his pajamas aside to stay dry, and showered quickly.  Once he was finished he wrapped the towel around his waist, stepping out of the stall and moving for the exit.  Something caught his eye in the shower Cas had used, and he paused to push back the curtain.

There was something that looked like blood on the floor, gathered in the water around the drain.  He had seen Cas when he'd walked by, he hadn't shaved that morning, and he hadn't seen any marks or wounds on him either.  So if that was blood, where did it come from?

“What the hell?” Dean wondered out loud.  He dressed quickly, making his way out to the map room, hoping to find Cas.  He heard Sam in the library, but what he heard made him pause before stepping into view.

“You're still not telling me something,” Sam was insisting.

“I've told you everything you need to know!” Ann said, slight anger in her voice.

“No, you haven't.  I've been honest with you, I've told you things about me, about my life.”

“I have too, Sam.  You're the first person in 15 years I've even stopped to give the time of day-”

“What really happened to Jacob?”  There was a pregnant pause.

“What?”

“You heard me.  God, Ann, I want to trust you, I do.  You're a fantastic hunter and I-”

“You saw the article in the paper, you know what happened.”

“Jacob wasn't killed by the vampires,” Sam said quietly.  “I pulled some favors, found a copy of the autopsy report.”  The silence in the room was heavy with implication, and Dean held his breath while he waited for Ann to answer his brother.  Charlie walked up to Dean, and he held a finger over his lips, widening his eyes before she spoke.  She frowned but nodded, just before Ann started talking.

“Okay, yes, I tried to save him, cauterized his wound, but it didn't make a difference, a few days later they found us again.”  Ann’s voice has changed, getting tighter with anger.  “The leader of the nest, he...he made me a deal.  Cast a spell for him, one that only a human could cast, and he'd let me go.  Just me.”  Something cold settled in Dean’s gut, and Charlie covered her mouth in horror next to him.

“So you sacrificed Jacob to them, did their dirty work, all on the  _ chance  _ they’d let you go?” Sam asked, disbelief in his voice.

“No,” she said evenly.  “I killed Jacob to keep them from doing whatever evil shit they were going to do to him.  Then I killed the leader of the nest and walked out of there.”  Dean couldn't stay back in the hallway, he needed to see her face.

“And why the hell did you do that?” Dean snapped, stepping up next to Sam and ignoring his surprised jump.

“I needed a spell,” she grunted, “I used Jacob’s blood and the leader’s to form a spell.  Made the effect of the dead man’s blood, Jacob’s blood, run through the leader’s entire vampire bloodline.”  If that was the case, Annika was a lot more powerful than Dean had previously realized, and even Sam’s surprise was evident.  Charlie stepped out of the hallway, standing off to the side of the room, and Dean had a sudden, protective urge to tell her to get out.

“You killed your friend so you could get away?” Charlie asked in a tiny voice.  Annika shook her head.

“Jacob’s wound wasn't healing, he was going to die from it.  Sorry if I wanted him to die human.” 

“What’s going on?” Cas asked, walking out from the dormitories and walking up to Dean.   _ Great, let's all get involved, _ Dean thought to himself, though he supposed he  _ had _ been the first one to come out here.

“Nothing, Cas, everything is fine,” Sam said, giving Dean a look that said  _ it needs to be fine. _  Dean stared at Sam in disbelief, because after hearing that story, how badly was his brother  _ pining _ after her to still be okay with her?

“I'll get my things and be on my way,” she sighed, turning to walk back to the room she had been using.

“Wait, Ann,” Sam sighed, walking over to her and holding out his hand to stop her.

“Sam, let me go,” she insisted.  Dean expected her to sound angry, but she just sounded tired.

“Look, you made a tough call, we all have to sometimes-” Sam started but she scoffed, cutting him off and trying to move past him.

“Right, a tough call,” she said darkly.  She shoved past Sam but he grabbed her left hand to try and stop her again, and when she jerked her hand away, Cas gasped next to Dean, stepping in front of him protectively.

“Sam!  Get away from her!” Cas shouted, looking so much like the angel he used to be.  Sam looked back at Cas in confusion.

“What? Why?”

“Sam,” Ann said calmly.  “Could I have my glove back?” she asked.  Her naked left hand reached out towards Sam, and Dean noticed a strange tattoo curling from the back of her hand to her palm, a full circle drawn onto her skin.

“Get back!” Cas shouted again, shoving Dean behind him and moving towards Sam and Ann.

“Cas, what in the  _ actual  _ hell is going on?” Dean called.

“She's not human!”  Cas shouted.  There was a pregnant pause.

“But, that's impossible, we warded this bunker against anything and everything supernatural, there's no way she got in here!” Charlie insisted.

“And I've warded Baby,” Dean agreed, frowning at the back of Cas’ head and over his shoulder at Ann.  “So how the hell did she get in and out of the car?!”  Ann was just standing there with her arms at her side, watching all of this unfold in silence.

“Because the spells weren't created with a Phoenix in mind,” Cas growled.

Every single person in the room froze and stared at Annika.

“A phoenix,” Dean repeated in breathless disbelief. 

“But… the iron poker, we  _ saw  _ you touch it,” Sam insisted, probably convinced Cas was mistaken,  _ wanting  _ Cas to be mistaken.

“It’s a spell.  When the glove is on it activates this sigil, makes me appear human,” she said simply, holding up her left hand.  

“Which is why Cas couldn't see her true face before now,” Charlie breathed.  Dean  _ knew  _ he had felt something off about her, he just thought it was his paranoia. 

What the hell were they supposed to do with a  _ phoenix?! _  The last time they’d faced one they’d had the Colt, but now…

“Why?” Sam asked, “Why pose as a human hunter?”  She bowed her head slightly, suddenly looking very tired.

“ _ Mother _ ,” her voice was dripping in sarcasm, “cast us out of her body, me and my brother.  We were like a cancer to her, rotting her from the inside out.  She burned us, thought it would kill us, but we rose from the ashes, then and ever since.”  Dean remembered Eve, what had happened when he'd fed her the phoenix ashes, remembered watching her brother die.  He shifted nervously as Annika continued talking.  “Mother knew we’d be a threat to her, every creature ever created by her has ‘kill the phoenix’ programmed into them.”  She looked down at the tattoo on her hand, running a finger along it.  “So when I found a spell to pass myself off as a human, you bet I’m going to do just that.”  

“So, those symbols, the message that was left by the werewolves?” Sam asked.

“Just about as old as me.  Some of the elders, the alphas and their firstborn, use it to remind me how long I've been hunted.  They think it’ll scare me.”

“There are still alphas left?  Even after what Crowley did?” Sam asked, genuinely surprised.  She smirked.

“Not all creatures are dumb enough to be fooled by a power hungry demon.” 

There was a tense silence in the room while everyone absorbed what was happening.

Dean tried to bring up more memories from their trip to the past.  He couldn't tell then, aside from the iron and the whole ‘rising from the dead’ thing, that the phoenix, her brother, had been anything but human.  He'd seen the spellwork on her blade, and he'd seen the spells she could do, putting the two together, it wasn't a stretch to believe her story.

“Um, question?” Charlie squeaked.  Everyone looked over at her except Cas, who was still standing halfway between Dean and Annika, staring her down.  “This could be a good thing right?”  Dean frowned.

“A good thing?” he asked, incredulously.

“Well, yeah,” she said, gesturing at Ann.  “I mean, she hunts monsters, she has super powers, and so far she seems to be one of the good guys.”  Dean looked at Sam, whom to his annoyance seemed to agree with Charlie.

“Sammy-”

“No, Dean, Charlie’s right.  I mean,” he turned to look at Ann, who was watching the whole exchange with bemusement.  “Annika could have let the werewolves kill you, she could have killed us so many times in the past week-”

“Why didn't she just tell us from the beginning?  Why do you think she wanted to hide this from us?” Dean hissed.

“Because you'd do exactly what you're doing now,” Sam pointed out.  “Give me one time, Dean, just one instance where she's done anything to make her a threat to us.”  Sam set his jaw and squared off, and Dean felt a flash of anger at his brother, because  _ dammit  _ he couldn’t think of anything.

“If I may?” Ann said quietly.

“Not really,” Dean snapped, but he felt a hand on his elbow.  He looked over to see Charlie looking up at him, puppy eyes and everything.  He frowned, pulling his arm away from Charlie, not wanting to be reasoned with.

“I may have withheld the full truth from you, but I have never lied.”  Ann’s voice was calm as she spoke, and it was making Dean that much more angry.

“Right, because that distinction means anything.”

“Dean, she saved your ass, would you stop being a dick about this?” Sam huffed.

“Oh, me being careful makes me a dick, does it?” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, every part of her story matches up, it makes sense,” Charlie interjected quietly.  Dean was still fuming, but he couldn't figure out the reason  _ why _ he was so pissed.

“Look, I’m going,” Ann sighed, turning to Sam.  “Thank you,” she said genuinely, and Dean didn’t miss the way his brother’s eyes softened when meeting hers.   _ Son of a bitch, Sammy. _  His brother was already attached to her, in that annoying habit he had of adopting any charity case they came across.

“At least let me give you a ride out east,” Sam insisted, handing her back her glove.  She slid it on, and Cas finally relaxed, so apparently she couldn't use her phoenix powers when the spell was working.  Dean was about to speak up with a  _ hell no _ about Sam being alone with her, but again, Charlie stopped him with a soft touch on his arm.  Dean turned away from the group and stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

He knew this girl would be trouble the moment he saw her passed out in their motel room, but the moment she bat her pretty silver eyes at Sam his brother was putty in her hands.  Sam had been that way ever since they were kids, much more relaxed, more trusting than Dean and his father had been.  It was in Sam’s nature to see the best in people, and to sometimes see the best in the very things they hunted.  After the demon blood fiasco, Dean didn't really blame him.

Charlie’s point that she'd be handy to keep around made sense, but Dean didn't want to listen to reason right now.  No matter how pretty or dressed up, she was still a centuries old  _ monster.   _ Sam may have a point about her not killing them, but come on, when have they ever benefited from trusting something not human?  

His time in purgatory popped up in his mind and he groaned.  Okay, maybe a couple non humans, like Cas and Benny, had been very helpful.  

_ Fuck _ he needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT PLEASE I NEEDS THEM :)


	6. 6. Kisses and Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... where has the month gone!?!? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to abandon you, I promise! T_T
> 
> With the holidays coming up it will probably be another long gap before I get a chapter posted, so sorry in advance.

 

_ ~Sam~ _

Now that they'd finally arrived back at the bunker, Sam put in a request for Jacob’s autopsy report.  He wasn't expecting to find anything, but he wanted to be thorough.  He believed in giving Annika the benefit of the doubt, but Dean was also correct about being cautious.

Over the course of the next few days, Sam spent most of his time getting to know Annika, learning about her hunts, her life, and where she'd travelled.

Her life wasn't extraordinary for a hunter’s, except for the fact she did most everything completely alone.  Sam and Dean had spent a lot of time with Bobby and his lore books, both because he was family, but also because sometimes the only way they solved a case was a book in his dusty library.  Annika did  _ everything _ on her own, research, hunting, and clean up, which probably explained why she had learned so much about witchcraft.  She needed a quick and easy way to not only take out the monsters, but to protect herself as well.  She was surprisingly willing to share information, helping them fill in extra entries in their lore library, teaching Sam a series of helpful spells.  The warding Sam and Dean had done to fortify the bunker’s already tight defenses paled in comparison to some of the spells she showed Sam.  She was willing to teach, and Sam couldn't help but listen.

The more they talked, the more personal their stories got, and Sam surprised himself one night, opening up to her about some of his darker experiences.  He told her about how he felt  _ wrong  _ because of the demon blood, how he’d always felt wrong his whole life, but couldn’t figure out why.  He was able to open up about how good it had felt to complete the trial, how he’d felt clean for the first time in his life.  She listened well, understanding in her eyes, and she never made Sam feel uncomfortable.  It was nice having someone to confide in outside of their ‘family’.  Charlie and Cas would both go to Dean if they were too worried about Sam, so he didn't open up to them as often as he should.  Annika presented a unique opportunity to get some things off his chest, and he latched onto that opportunity.

The flirting had been unexpected.

Same noticed it one night, after sitting up for hours in her borrowed room, the two of them talking about everything and yet nothing at the same time.  The bashful smiles, the way her eyes would drop to her lap when he'd look at her for too long.  

It was inevitable that she would notice him, well,  _ noticing  _ her.  Now that they were fairly stationary, her cargo pants had given way to simple jeans, and her shirts and vests had changed to tank tops.  She was gorgeous, her long light brown hair always neatly braided or done up in a ponytail, her simple beauty shining through without makeup, her silver eyes giving her an air of mystery.  She was fit, toned from the hunter’s life, but her body still had curves in all the right places.

It had been  _ a while _ for Sam, and that's what he blamed his morning woods on.  Just that it had been a while; it had nothing to do with actually  _ feeling  _ anything for Annika.   _ Right _ ?

 

On the fourth day of Ann’s visit, she surprised Sam yet again by serving him breakfast, Dean having already eaten his, apparently talking with in a civilized manner while he ate.  As soon as Sam showed up, Dean made up some excuse to leave quickly, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam and nodding towards Ann.  Sam flushed, wishing his brother would just grow up.  He focused on his breakfast as Anna took Dean’s vacated seat with nothing but a cup of coffee.

“Aren't you eating?” Sam asked.  

“Already did, slow poke,” she shrugged.  

“My alarm is set for 7am, didn't know that was going to make me the slow riser,” Sam chuckled.  She smiled, but it faded quickly.  “What's up?” Sam asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“I'm thinking about leaving.  I've got to finish my work on my blade, and by now the werewolves will hopefully be off my trail.”  She looked up at Sam, twirling her hair absently with her left hand, a nervous habit he'd noticed over the past few days.  

“Is there anything you need?  A ride, a lore book?” he asked.  Okay, so maybe he was fishing for reasons to spend more time with her. He stabbed a little forcefully at a potato but she didn't seem to notice.

“I'll miss you, too, Sam,” she hummed, winking at him when he looked up in surprise.  He smiled and went back to eating as she kept talking.  “Your brother was acting weird this morning, like he was distracted.”

“If Dean was up this early, I’m not surprised,” Sam shrugged.  “He only gets up this early when something’s bothering him.”  

“Huh,” she hummed thoughtfully, but Sam didn't press, he just focused on his breakfast.  “I really appreciate you taking me in,” she said softly.  “No one's been this kind to me in years.”

“I know what it's like to be on the run constantly,” Sam shrugged.  “After Bobby died, during the whole Leviathan thing, Dean and I drifted from place to place, always afraid to stay put for too long.  Hell, we didn't even have the Impala at that point.  It was exhausting.”

“What about Castiel?” she asked.  “He wasn't with you?”

“He was sorta dead, for the most part,” Sam pointed out.  “And for the rest he was kind of, well, not himself.”  She raised an eyebrow, and Sam chuckled.  “I guess when you say it out loud, it sounds kinda weird.”

“A bit,” Ann agreed.  

“He lifted the torture off of me, from Lucifer, and it drove him a little crazy,” Sam explained.  

“And now he's gone from being an angel to being a human, but with all that angelic knowledge shoved in his brain,” Ann summarized.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, leaning on the table heavily.  “You know, I'm surprised Cas isn't more pissed at me.”  It was a thought he'd considered before, but never voiced out loud.  He knew Dean would just brush it off, and Charlie wouldn't understand, so again Sam found himself confiding in Ann.

“Why should he be pissed at you?” she asked.

“Because that's twice that something I've done has basically ruined him, an attempted third if you count that time I stabbed him with the angel blade.”  

“I'm not following,” Ann said slowly.

“Remember all the strange deaths before the Leviathan?  When Cas was playing at being God?”  She nodded, so Sam continued.  “As soon as he swallowed the souls, I literally stabbed him in the back.  Then when he lifted my memories of being in the cage off of me, his mind totally snapped.  And then again, in the church,” Sam sighed, his voice catching as he spoke, a spark of pain running up his left arm.  “I should have died in that church, and Cas, he just walked in and gave up his life for me again.”

“So, because Cas made some bad decisions, it's your fault when he tries to clean them up?” she reasoned, standing and turning to the stove to tidy up the dishes.

“Cas has done more for my brother and me than anyone else we've ever known,” Sam pointed out.  “For him to lose such an important part of himself for my sake?  Yeah, that sucks ass.  I wouldn't blame him for being pissed.”

“He's alive.  He's human now, yes, but one might argue that it's the best thing that happened to him,” she snipped, her focus on the dirty pan in the sink.  Sam frowned, something in the words when she'd said them made him curious.

“You really think so?  I mean, as an angel he was all but limitless in his power,” Sam said slowly, trying to feel out where she was coming from.

“But by the nature of him having that power, he probably felt obligated to use it, to protect people, to fight evil.  He had a huge target on him by both angels and demons.  Now, all he has to worry about is whether or not fried chicken gives him heartburn.”  Sam stood and walked over to the sink, setting his plate down on the counter, his elbow just brushing Ann’s arm.

“You really think he’s better off?”

“I don't know, maybe?  Has anyone asked him how he feels about it?” she asked tersely, keeping her focus on the sink.  Sam paused because no, as far as he knew, no one had.  He knew Dean was scouring the lore looking for a way to restore his grace, and Sam had just assumed they'd find a way to help him someday.  He'd never stopped to wonder if Cas  _ wanted _ his grace back.  He looked over at Ann, noticing the tense look on her face, and he reached out to tentatively touch her shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.  She took a deep breath, blowing it out all at once on a heavy exhale.

“Yeah, I'm just...I sympathize with Cas a bit, about having power, and knowing people want to use it.”  She wiped her hands down on a towel, and Sam reached out and grabbed her right hand, tugging gently to draw her gaze up to his.

“If you want to talk about it, before you go…” he offered.  She smiled, squeezing Sam’s hand.

“I know, you're here to listen to my every worry,” she teased.  

Sam was kissing her before he'd even made the conscious decision to.  By the time his brain had caught up to his actions, Ann’s soft lips were pressed firmly to his, her head tilted back to make the angle easier.  He pulled away, watching as her tongue darted out to brush her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” Sam gasped, his cheeks heating as they flushed red.  She half smiled at him.

“Don't be,” she hummed, dropping his hand and walking out of the kitchen.  Sam leaned back against the counter, trying to figure out what had just happened, and also trying to decide if her parting words were an invitation or not.  Because  _ God  _ he wanted them to be.

She was the first person since Jess that Sam had opened up to like this.  Even Amelia had never known Sam the way Ann did, because he'd never been able to tell her about his  _ real _ life.  Sam was starting to realize he needed someone like this, someone he could talk to openly, someone who understood the life.  Because of Ann, he was starting to hope for that again.

Cas walked in the kitchen, hair slightly damp from a shower, and he paused in his search for his normal breakfast of oatmeal to nod at Sam.

“Good morning,” he called, leaning into the pantry to grab his food.  

“Hey, Cas,” Sam muttered, nodding back, still a bit distracted.  He did a double take.  “Cas, you okay?  There's blood on your shirt.”  Cas turned his head, trying to look over his shoulder at the spot Sam was staring at.  On his back, just below his right shoulder, a bit of blood had made the shirt cling to his skin.

“I'm fine.  I, uh, fell this morning, caught my shoulder on the corner of a wall.  I thought it had stopped bleeding,” Cas muttered, flustered and embarrassed.  More flustered than he normally would be.

“Want me to take a look?” Sam asked, taking a step forward.  Cas turned his back away from Sam abruptly, his cheeks pinking as he avoided Sam’s eyes.

“No, it's fine.  I'm going to go change my shirt,” Cas insisted, hurrying out of the kitchen, leaving his package of oatmeal on the counter.

“Okay,” Sam huffed, beyond confused by everyone's behavior that morning, including his own.  He touched his lips, almost able to feel the warmth of the kiss still lingering there.  His phone went off, alerting him to an email from one of his M.E. contacts, and he pulled it up.  As he skimmed through the email, his heart fell into his stomach.   _ That's not good. _

He wished he'd had a bit more warning before the kiss had happened, a chance to really absorb their first one.

Especially since now it could also be the last.

Sam rushed out of the kitchen, down the hallway to Ann’s room.  She wasn't there, so he turned for the library instead.  He caught up to her just as she turned the corner from the hallway.

“Ann, wait,” he called.  She looked back, an amused look on her face.

“If you're really worried about the kiss-”

“What happened 15 years ago?” he interrupted her.  Her smiled faded, her face immediately turning cold.

“I've told you everything about what happened,” she said quietly.  

“You're still not telling me something,” Sam insisted, hating the horrible churn of suspicion in his gut.

“I've told you everything you need to know!” Ann said, a slight hint of anger in her voice.

“No, you haven't.”  Sam ran his hand through his hair, hating himself for not letting this go.  “I've been honest with you, I've told you things about me, about my life.”

“I have too, Sam.  You're the first person in 15 years I've even stopped to give the time of day-”

“What  _ really _ happened to Jacob?” Sam asked again, turning his phone to show her the pictures from Jacob’s autopsy.  

“What?”  Her eyes widened, her facade slipping as she turned away from the photos.

“You heard me,” Sam insisted, the kiss playing over in his head, distracting him while he struggled to get the truth from her.  “God, Ann, I want to trust you, I do.  You're a fantastic hunter and I-”

“You saw the article in the paper, you know what happened,” she insisted, the lie hanging heavy in the air.

“Jacob wasn't killed by the vampires,” Sam said quietly.  “Not according to the actual autopsy report.”  He watched her as she thought through what he was saying, surprised when her eyes finally moved up to meet his, even and unashamed.

“Okay, yes, I tried to save him, cauterized his wound, but it didn't make a difference, a few days later they found us again.”   Sam can hear her anger bleeding through into her words, can just make out the sadness in her eyes when she talks about the boy who meant so much to her.  “The leader of the nest, he...he made me a deal.  Cast a spell for him, one that only a human could cast, and he'd let me go.  Just me.”  

“So you sacrificed Jacob to them, did their dirty work, all on the  _ chance  _ they’d let you go?” Sam asked, disbelief in his voice.  He doesn't want to believe it, but some of the things he and Dean had done weren't much better.  It wasn't an impossibility.

“No,” she said evenly, surprising Sam yet again.  “I killed Jacob to keep them from doing whatever evil shit they were going to do to him.”  Sam’s heart starts to hurt at the barely concealed pain in her eyes.  “Then I killed the leader of the nest and walked out of there.”

“And why the hell did you do that?” Dean snapped from the hallway, making Sam jump half out of his skin.  Annika immediately shut down her emotions, and Sam mentally kicked his brother for bursting in.

“To survive,” Ann grunted.  “I used Jacob’s blood and the leader’s to form a spell.  Made the effect of the dead man’s blood, Jacob’s blood, run through the leader’s entire vampire bloodline.  I knocked them out cold, and killed them, one by one.”  Sam knew she was skilled, but from the look on Dean’s face, his brother hadn't realized how strong she was.  Charlie stepped out of the hallway, standing off to the side of the room, and Sam wanted to shout at everyone to get out so he could talk to Ann alone.  Ann had opened up to him, and this was not the way he wanted this conversation to go.

“You killed your friend so you could get away?” Charlie asked in a tiny voice.  Annika shook her head.

“Jacob’s wound wasn't healing, he was going to die from it.  Sorry if I wanted him to die human.” 

“What’s going on?” Cas asked, walking out from the dormitories and walking up to Dean.   _ Fucking hell. _

“Nothing, Cas, everything is fine,” Sam said, turning to Dean, giving him a look and trying to convince him to keep calm.  Dean stared at Sam in disbelief, and Sam knew his brother wasn't taking this revelation well out of its context.

“I'll get my things and be on my way,” Ann sighed, turning to walk back to the room she had been using.  Sam’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

“Wait, Ann,” Sam sighed, walking over to her and holding out his hand to stop her.

“Sam, let me go,” she insisted, the barest hint of pain in her eyes.  Sam understood the double meaning, but he couldn't do that.  Not now, not when they'd come so  _ close... _

“Look, you made a tough call, we all have to sometimes-” Sam started but she scoffed, cutting him off and trying to move past him.

“Right, a tough call,” she said darkly.  She shoved past Sam but he grabbed her left hand to try and stop her again, and when she jerked her hand away, her glove came off in Sam’s hand.  Cas gasped from across the room.

“Sam!  Get away from her!” Cas shouted.  Sam looked back at Cas in confusion, noting the ex angel had thrown himself in front of Dean.

“What? Why?”

“Sam,” Ann said calmly, drawing his gaze back to her.  “Could I have my glove back?” she asked.  Her naked left hand reached out towards Sam, a strange tattoo curling from the back of her hand to her palm, a full circle drawn onto her skin.  Sam looked up and met her eyes.  He saw something... _ different _ in them, but she looked away before he could pin it down.

“Get back!” Cas shouted again, shoving Dean further behind him and moving across the room towards Sam and Ann.

“Cas, what in the  _ actual  _ hell is going on?” Dean called.

“She's not human!”  Cas shouted.  There was a pregnant pause.  Sam nearly swallowed his tongue as bits and pieces started to slot together in his mind.

“But, that's impossible, we warded this bunker against anything and everything supernatural, there's no way she got in here!” Charlie insisted.

“And I've warded Baby,” Dean agreed.  “So how the hell did she get in and out of the car?!”  Ann was just standing there with her arms at her side, watching all of this unfold in silence.

“Because the spells weren't created with a Phoenix in mind,” Cas growled.

Every single person in the room froze and stared at Annika.

“A phoenix,” Dean repeated in breathless disbelief. 

“But… the iron poker, we  _ saw  _ you touch it,” Sam insisted, eyeing the sigil on her hand even as he said it.

“It’s a spell,” Ann admitted.  “When the glove is on it activates this sigil, makes me appear human,” she said simply, holding up her left hand.  

“Which is why Cas couldn't see her true face before now,” Charlie breathed.

“Why?” Sam asked, “Why pose as a human hunter?”  Hidden in that question was  _ why didn't you trust me, _ and he saw the understanding in her eyes as they dropped to the floor.  

“ _ Mother _ ,” her voice was dripping in sarcasm, “cast us out of her body, me and my brother.  We were like a cancer to her, rotting her from the inside out.  She burned us, thought it would kill us, but we rose from the ashes, then and ever since.”  Sam has come to recognize the bitter tone in her voice, and it doesn't sit right with him.  “Mother knew we’d be a threat to her, every creature ever created by her has ‘kill the phoenix’ programmed into them.”  She looked down at the tattoo on her hand, running a finger along it.  “So when I found a spell to pass myself off as a human, you bet I’m going to do just that.”  

“So, those symbols, the message that was left by the werewolves?” Sam asked.

“Just about as old as me.  Some of the elders, the alphas and their firstborn, use it to remind me how long I've been hunted.  They think it’ll scare me.”

“There are still alphas left?” Sam wondered.   “Even after what Crowley did?”   _ And me _ , he added to himself.  She smirked, a small amount of fondness in her eyes.

“Not all creatures are dumb enough to be fooled by a power hungry demon.” 

There was a tense silence in the room while everyone absorbed what was happening.

Every puzzle piece about her was coming together now, how she knew so much about spellcraft, how she hadn't aged, her overconfidence, her fear of trusting others.  Much to Sam’s embarrassment, it didn't seem to be making her  _ less  _ attractive, if anything, it was reminding him just how much they had in common.

“Um, question?” Charlie squeaked, drawing Sam’s attention.  “This could be a good thing right?”  

“A good thing?” Dean asked, incredulously.

“Well, yeah,” Charlie said, gesturing at Ann.  “I mean, she hunts monsters, she has super powers, and so far she seems to be one of the good guys.”  Sam had to admit, Charlie had a good heart, and a valid point.

“Sammy-” Dean warned, apparently reading his mind.

“No, Dean, Charlie’s right.  I mean,” he turned to look at Ann, who was watching the whole exchange with bemusement.  “Annika could have let the werewolves kill you, she could have killed us so many times in the past week-”

“Why didn't she just tell us from the beginning?  Why do you think she wanted to hide this from us?” Dean hissed.

“Because you'd do exactly what you're doing now,” Sam pointed out.  “Give me one time, Dean, just one instance where she's done anything to make her a threat to us.”  Sam knew he'd won that round, but Dean’s livid face didn't bode well. 

“If I may?” Ann said quietly.

“Not really,” Dean snapped.

“I may have withheld the full truth from you, but I have never lied.”  Ann’s voice was calm as she spoke.  Sam bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and he caught the slight gleam of mischief in Ann’s eye.

“Right, because that distinction means anything,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, she saved your ass, would you stop being a dick about this?” Sam huffed.

“Oh, me being careful makes me a dick, does it?” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, every part of her story matches up, it makes sense,” Charlie interjected quietly.

“Look, I’m going,” Ann sighed, turning to Sam.  “Thank you,” she said genuinely.  Sam frantically tried to keep her from leaving.  He could talk Dean down once Dean had cooled off.

“At least let me give you a ride out east,” Sam insisted, handing her back her glove.  She slid it on with a thankful smile, and Sam sighed heavily when he heard his brother storm off.

“Want me to talk to him?” Charlie asked.  Cas was looking down the hallway after Dean as well, worry furrowing his brow.

“If you want to try, but he's too pissed right now to listen to reason,” Sam sighed.  Ann took the opportunity to turn and head towards the rooms, and Sam took off after her, catching up to her as she walked into her room, shutting the door behind them once he'd walked in.

“Sam, stop trying to keep me here,” she sighed tiredly, tucking her things into her duffel bag her blade sitting on the bed next to it.

“I'm not keeping you here,” he insisted.  “If you want to go, then you can go.”  Sam leaned on the door, watching as she gathered up her things.  “I can give you a lift to the bus station at least-”

“Stop!” she snapped.  Her posture went rigid and she grabbed her blade with a white knuckled grip.

“Stop what?” Sam asked quietly, though he had an idea.  She turned to him, a flash of something dangerous in her eyes.

“Stop caring about me.”  Her voice was so low he almost didn't hear it.   _ Too late,  _ Sam thought to himself.  Her blade was still sheathed, and Sam decided to push his luck, to see if he'd really come to know her as well as he thought.

“I'm afraid I can't do that,” Sam breathed.  He stepped forward slowly, reaching for her blade once he was close enough and wrapping his hand around the sheath.  She held onto it tightly for a moment, but then relented to Sam’s pull, letting him lower it to the bed.

“Why are you doing this?” she sighed.  “Why aren't you mad that I lied?  I'd be pissed,” she grumbled.

“Because finding out you're a-”

“Don't say it,” she snapped.  

“Okay, finding out about your true nature,” Sam said instead, “doesn't change who you are, or make it so the past few days didn't happen.  You're still you.”  She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I'm a monster, Sam.  Literally.  Haven't you had enough of that in your life?” Ann grumbled turning away from him and shoving more of her things in her bag.

“You may not be human,” Sam said quietly, trying to control his nerves so he could get his point across, “but you've tried so hard to make everyone think you are.  You could have easily wiped out anything chasing you through your life, but you chose to take them on as a human, to flee instead of fight.”  He took a deep breath, stepping up behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders, pausing her movement.  “And the way you talked about Cas this morning, it almost sounded like you were jealous,” Sam added softly.  

“Sam,” she sighed, “what you're asking for isn’t possible.”

“I'm not asking for anything but a chance,” Sam breathed, his hands trailing slowing down her arms, coming to rest just above her elbows and pulling her a bit closer.  “I just want to understand you.”  Ann kept her rigid posture for a few more moments, then sagged slightly, all the fight seeming to go out of her.

“I've been alive for so long, and on the run for all of it,” she breathed, “and every time it feels like too much, I let them catch up.  I let them catch me.  And every time I die, I wake up in a new body, surrounded by burned monsters and ash, and it all starts over again.”  She pulls her bag onto the floor and moves away from Sam, sitting down on the edge of the bed.  “I'm  _ tired _ , Sam.  I’m tired of simply burning and coming back.”  Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“You want to die?” he asked quietly.  She shook her head quickly.

“No, I don't, I just… I want it to  _ stop.” _  Sam sank down onto the bed next to her, picking up her blade when it rolled to rest against his thigh.

“So what's the spell for?  The one you keep talking about finishing?” he asked.  Ann took her blade from him, laying it in her lap.

“It's bound to the blade, a spell to separate me from my immortality.”  Sam blinked, staring at the blade cautiously.

“To make you human.”

“That's the idea, anyway,” she nodded in agreement.

“How, exactly?”

“The spell was vague, but basically I slice through the ‘metaphysical bond’ between me and my...powers.”  She sounded matter of fact, but Sam hears a slight hesitation in her voice.

“What does that mean?” he asked.  

“Guess we’ll find out when the spell is finished,” she shrugged, setting the blade on top of her bag.  

“Yeah, I guess.”  Sam watched her, he could see in her how much she hated her power, and he could see so much of himself in her.  When Sam had found out what Azazel had done to him, he'd  _ hated  _ himself, the feeling he'd get when he'd look in the mirror.  Annika had been feeling this way for centuries, Sam couldn't even imagine what that was like.  He wanted to hold her, to help her like he'd eventually found help in the trials, to be there for her.  It was kind of scary how bad he wanted that, but scary in a way that made him feel more alive.

“Sam,” her voice broke into his thoughts, “until I've finished with this spell, I can't.”  

“Can't what?” 

“I can't  _ be  _ what you want be to be for you.  I can't be more than this.”  Sam laughed at how she'd practically read his mind, and she frowned in confusion.

“Whatever  _ this _ is, which I'm kind of clueless about,” Sam pointed out.  

“You know what I mean,” she sighed.  

“I do,” he agreed, “but if there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that there’s no point to waiting.  There's always going to be one more hunt, or one more spell, one more fight.”

“This is way more complicated than that ‘live for today’ crap,” she groused.

“Maybe it is, maybe it really isn't,” Sam insisted.  “Maybe you're just scared because to you, it feels like Jacob just happened yesterday.”  Ann flinched but Sam kept pushing forward.  “I know some days I wake up and I still feel like I just lost Jess.”

“I didn't just  _ lose  _ Jacob-”

“I know,” Sam said quickly.  “To this day a part of me still wonders that, if I had just warned Jess, if I had told her about my life if I would have saved her.  Even after almost 9 years, part of me still feels like my silence got her killed.”  She shook her head, a humorless smile on her face.

“So what, we wallow in our communal grief and it makes us feel better?” she snipped, but the emotional outburst let's Sam know he's getting under her skin.

“We could talk about it at least.  Now that we each have someone who understands.”  She twirled her braid in her fingers, staring at the wall blankly until she made her decision.

“I'll think about it,” she huffed, dropping her hand to her lap.  Sam grinned, trying not to get too excited at his small victory.   _ She didn't say no. _

“So,” Sam started casually, “you still want that ride out east?”  She looked up at him, deadpan for only a brief moment, before she smiled, beautifully annoyed but resigned to Sam’s stubborn attention.  Sam flushed with success when she nudged him with her elbow.

“Guess I'm not getting rid of you, huh?” 

“Not that easily,” Sam laughed, nudging her back.

This time, Sam was aware the kiss was going to happen.  He leaned over, his shoulder pressed to hers, and he slowly brushed the back of her hand with his knuckles.  He could feel her warmth against him, her eyes softening as she realized what was happening.  She only hesitated a moment before turning her gloved hand over, sliding her fingers into Sam’s as she closed the final distance, pressing her lips to his.  Sam’s left hand came up, sliding across her cheek and tilting her head gently, her skin soft under his calloused fingers.  She hummed against his lips, leaning into the kiss before pulling back, their noses brushing as she dropped her chin.

“Sam-”

“Please,” he sighed, not sure what she was going to say, but not ready to hear it.  “Please, just...just a chance.”  Ann looked up at him, her silver eyes meeting his unflinchingly.

“I'm sorry I hid the truth from you,” she said quietly.  “I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did.”  She reached up with her right hand, gently brushing his hair off his forehead.  

“Ann-”  She rested her finger on his lips to silence him, her smile spreading wide across her face.

“But considering your brother killed my brother, do you blame me?”  Sam opened his mouth to defend Dean, and stopped when Ann giggled, squeezing Sam’s hand where she still held it.  “You should see your face,” she laughed.

“Well, you kind of hit that awkward nail on the head,” Sam shrugged, grinning back.  The tension was effectively broken between them as they laughed, and it was a huge weight off of Sam’s shoulders.  Ann let go of Sam’s hand and laid back on the bed, her legs stretched out behind Sam’s back, her arms stretched over her head.

“My brother and I weren't ever on good terms,” she pointed out casually.  “Hell, we weren't even really family, not the way you’d think of it.  When you found him, that wasn't his first human wife, nor was that his first time killing humans.  He deserved what you did.”  Sam turned his body to face her, noticing not for the first time just how gorgeous she was, the curve of her chest flowing smoothly to the curve of her hips.  Sam knew how strong she was, but her body was deceptively soft and feminine; graceful and deadly.  When he eventually met her eyes, the smirk she was wearing told Sam she'd caught him staring.  He flushed and cleared his throat.

“I, uh, I didn't mean to um...” Sam mumbled inarticulately.  

“It's okay,” she assured him.  “I don't mind.”  Her eyes slipped closed briefly, and when she opened them, she nodded like she had just made her mind up about something.  That decision becomes obvious to Sam when she lowers her hand from behind her head, reaching out to him in invitation.  The gesture sends butterflies rolling through his stomach as he slides farther up the bed, sitting closer to her but not  _ too  _ close.  She rolled her eyes at his hesitance.  “Come here, you dweeb, before I change my mind,” she sighed, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling on him so he was leaning over her, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her head.  He swiveled his hips, knees on either side of her thighs, and he felt her relax once he was settled, her comfort giving Sam a boost of confidence.

“I take it I'm getting my chance, then?” he chuckled, shaking his hair out of his eyes.  She traced both hands down his chest, grinning gently up at him, and Sam felt goosebumps spread from her touch.  Seeing her look at him like that, wanting him but in a way that was  _ more _ than sex, was breathtaking.  Sam had almost forgotten what that could feel like.

“I guess, since you asked so nicely,” she finally answered, teasingly.  Sam leaned down, capturing her lips, and she let him in, sliding both hands into his hair as he traced her teeth with his tongue.  Her fingers drew patterns into his scalp, soothing away his worry, but ratcheting up his temperature, and his libido.   _ God _ , he needed this, needed  _ her _ , and his body was quickly responding in kind, his hardening length already pressing against his zipper _. _  She was different, she didn't give in to Sam’s attempts to dominate the kiss, didn't tilt her head to make it easy for him, even when he shifted his weight to run his hand behind her head.  Sam had just lowered himself against her when there was a knock on the door.

“Sam?” Cas called through the wood.  Ann groaned a curse as Sam pulled away.  

“Sorry, he breathed, sitting up and running a quick hand through his hair, tugging on his jeans.

“Having some issues?” she whispered innocently, and Sam cleared his throat, shrugging.

“Yeah, Cas, I'm in here,” he answered, still slightly breathless.  Cas opened the door, pausing to confusedly look between them for a moment before talking.

“I spoke to Dean, and he's calmed down some,” Cas said slowly.  “I was hoping you might speak with him, Sam.”  Sam looked back at Annika, and she nodded.

“Go, tell him about the spell.  Then maybe he’ll let me borrow you for a few days.”  Sam didn't miss the hidden meaning in those words, and he swallowed hard as heat spread through him.

“Yeah, Cas, I'll go talk to him,” Sam agreed, adjusting his clothes again before standing and walking quickly out into the hallway.  Once out of sight, he grinned, just resisting the urge to fistpump as he walked towards Dean’s room.

He had a chance,  _ they  _ had a chance, and that was enough for Sam.

Sam checked his appearance one more time before he approached Dean’s open door, his brother sitting and waiting on the edge of his bed.

“We need to talk about your girlfriend,” Dean huffed, standing to face Sam, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Dean, she's not my- “ Sam cut himself off, the feel of her kiss still tingling on his lips.  “That's not the point,” he said instead.

“That’s exactly the point,” Dean scoffed.  “Last time you went with your heart over your head the fucking apocalypse started, remember?”

“Wait, what?”  Was Dean seriously bringing that up now?! 

“Your heart is why you trusted Ruby, you can't afford to think that way this time,” Dean continued, and Sam barked a laugh at the ridiculousness of his brother’s argument.

“Dean, I was never in love with Ruby.  I misjudged the hold she had over me, and I trusted her where I shouldn't have, but it had nothing to do with my ‘heart’.”

“I didn't- did you just say ‘in love’?” Dean snapped.  Sam flushed and set his jaw.

“I just talked to Ann, do you know what she’s trying to do?” Sam changed the topic.  “She's trying to become human.  That's why she uses the glove, that's what the spell on her blade is for.”

“Yeah, and how do you know she's telling the truth?”

“Because she has no reason to lie.  Dean, if she wanted to kill us, she could do it right now.  If she wanted to torture us, why leave us be for three days, helping around the bunker.  If she wanted something from us, she could just  _ take  _ it.”  Sam forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down.

“You really do have a thing for her, don't you?” Dean huffed.  

“I'm not going to sit here and get lectured by you.  You trusted Benny, remember?”  Dean’s face darkened like it did every time the vampire was mentioned.

“That's different-”

“How?  How is that different?” Sam demanded.  Dean set his jaw and didn't say anything.  “Exactly.  Now, I'm going to take my car, and I'm going to help her finish her spell.  We might be able to use it again on a not so willing monster in the future, maybe if an angel comes for Cas, so I figured it's a good idea to let her try.”  At the mention of Cas, a muscle in Dean’s jaw twitched, and Dean’s scowl deepened.

“Yeah, and what if there's something she's missing, huh?  What if  _ you're _ this final ingredient she keeps talking about.”

“Dean-”

“What if I decide not to go with you?” Dean insisted, “If you go without me, I won't be there to have your back.”

“I can take care of myself,” Sam chuckled.

“Sammy-”

“Stop, Dean.”  Sam ran a hand through his hair.  “Stop pretending that the reason you're so pissed is because she's not human.”  Sam had a sudden epiphany, and he hoped he was right because he was running with it.

“Then what's it about, Sam?” 

“You're jealous.”  Dean barked out a laugh.  “Not of her, but of me,” Sam continued, ignoring him.  “Now that the demons are gone, you're getting that itch again, the one that kept you with Lisa for a year.  You're afraid that I’ll find it, and you're afraid you won't.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean,” Dean scoffed, brushing off Sam’s accusation.  Sam shook his head.

“Dean, you have your family, you have me, Charlie, and Kevin.  You have Cas,” he noticed Dean’s jaw tighten again at the angel’s name.   _ Interesting _ .  Sam filed that reaction away for later.  “If Ann’s spell works, it's not like you’ll be losing me.

“That is not what this is about.”

“Then don't you trust me?” Sam asked.  “Trust me to take care of myself?  The trials were months ago, Dean.”  Dean’s eyes were hard, and he just turned away from Sam.

“Fine.”  Dean’s dismissal was obvious, so Sam rolled his eyes, turning away from his brother's room and walking down the hallway.  Cas was standing outside his own room when Sam walked by, and he tilted his head curiously but didn't say anything.  Sam paused, turning back to the angel.

“How's your shoulder?” Sam asked.  

“It's fine,” Cas said evenly.  “How's Dean?”

“He's just pouting, he’ll get over it,” Sam shrugged.  

“Pouting?”  Cas looked concerned, and Sam shook his head, smiling at the angel.  He forgot, sometimes, how far Cas still had to go.

“Don't worry about him,” Sam chuckled.  Cas was obviously still confused, but he nodded anyway.

“I still find some human emotions hard to read,” Cas sighed.  “I have, after all, only been exposed to them for a relatively short while.”  Something Ann had said at breakfast floated back to the forefront of Sam’s mind.

“Cas, do you want your grace back?” he asked.  Cas’ whole body went stiff, and he looked at Sam strangely.

“I trust in you and your brother to find a way to help me,” he said, but something was off in his voice, like he was telling Sam what he thought Sam wanted to hear.

“Cas, maybe we will, maybe we won't.  I want to know what  _ you  _ want.”  Cas was quiet, his brow furrowed.

“I...I haven't really thought about it,” Cas admitted quietly.

“Do that,” Sam said quietly.  “Think about everything you’ll miss about being an Angel, and think about your limits being a human.  Whatever you decide, we’ll be here to help you, okay?”  A smile pulled at the corner of Cas’ lips.

“I will, thank you Sam.”

“Anytime, Cas.”  Sam waved and turned away to walk back to Ann’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atta boy Sammy XD 
> 
> Aaaaand poor Dean lol
> 
> Comment and Kudos?? :)


	7. 7. Some Things Never Change, and Some Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOUR MONTHS ITS BEEN FOUR MONTHS IM SO SORRY 
> 
> T_T
> 
> "Death of a Bachelor" took over my writing life, I didn't mean to abandon this story.  
> Here's the long awaited update, hopefully the next one doesn't take as long...

**** ( _ Dean) _

 

Dean pointedly ignored the fact that Sam spent most of the rest of the day in Annika’s room, putting on his headphones to drown out any possible noises, even skipping lunch and dinner to avoid being confronted by anyone.

Something Sam had said, about Dean being jealous of his relationship, had struck a chord with him.  He wanted to deny it, to just blow it off and pretend Sam was wrong, because that was the easy thing to do.  It was what he'd done for 30 years, since his mom had died.  Don't show weakness, be strong: the Winchester way.  

This time it wasn't going away that easy.  Every time he tried to brush it aside, Dean inevitably ended up thinking about retiring; about the fact that, as long as the angels stayed put up in heaven, he and Sam could actually have time off, leave some of the hunting to other hunters.  The thought was ridiculous, Dean didn’t have any idea what he’d  _ do,  _ vacation hadn’t ever been something he’d worried about.

And then there was Cas.  What would he do as a human?  Get a job?  Dean almost laughed out loud at the thought, picturing Cas wearing a smock and working at some retail shop, stocking shelves and doing other menial chores.

Dean sobered quickly.  

This was the same Castiel that focused so hard on washing dishes, it was like every speck of food was personally offensive to him.  The same Castiel that got so excited the first time he'd delivered Dean his cleaned laundry.  Who had been working so hard, learning to cook, to shoot, _ to be human. _

Maybe...maybe he  _ wanted _ to be human.

If Cas was human, Dean would be a hell of a lot more worried on even the most simple hunts, because Cas would be so much more vulnerable.  And when he got hurt, which he inevitably would, would Dean be able to bear the guilt?  The trials had almost killed Cas, and seeing him laying in bed so broken had nearly been Dean’s undoing.  He couldn't ask Cas not to hunt either, not only was it not fair, he didn't figure it would be possible to keep Cas cooped up in this bunker forever.  

As thoughts of Cas’ future rolled through Dean’s head, his empty stomach started to churn, forcing him from bed around midnight in search of food.  In his socked feet, he silently made his way down the hall to the kitchen in the near total darkness of the nighttime bunker lights.  Kevin had rigged a timer so they would naturally dim to mark the passage of time, something that surprisingly came in handy when living in an underground lair.  He turned the corner for the kitchen, light spilling out of the room into the hallway as well as soft voices.  Dean paused, too hungry to turn back but unwilling to interrupt.

“You know, Dean could probably help,” Charlie was saying, “all you’d have to do is ask.”

“No,” Cas said quickly.  “This is something that I need to do on my own.”

“Yeah, but if what you said-”

“Charlie,” Cas’ voice was adamant, “I don’t want this on Dean’s shoulders.  He’s… he’s done enough.”  Dean’s heart thudded hard in his chest from the emotion in Cas’ voice.  All Dean had managed to do was ruin Cas’ life, yet Cas made it sound like Dean was some kind of savior.

Dean heard a chair scrape across the floor, and took a few steps back from the door, resuming walking as casually as he could into the kitchen, hoping his red ears wouldn’t give away that he'd heard anything.  Charlie was in her favorite fluffy robe, putting something back in the fridge, and Cas was sitting at the table in plaid pajamas and one of Dean’s old faded tshirts he'd given Cas before they bought him his own clothes.  They both startled when Dean walked in, Charlie looking slightly guilty.

“What are you guys still doing up?” Dean asked, nodding briefly at Cas and nudging Charlie with his hip as he walked towards the shelves they'd put in as a makeshift pantry.

“Same thing as you,” Charlie shrugged, “got the munchies and can't sleep.”  Dean grabs the bread and peanut butter, getting the jelly from the fridge and setting to work making a sandwich.  He feels a little weird, like he'd intruded on something personal, and keeps his eyes away from Cas.

“Anyone else want a sandwich?” he asked the room at large.

“I’m good, thanks.  And I'm headed to bed,” Charlie announced, giving Dean a quick hug from behind before she bounced out of the room.  Dean didn’t miss the significant look between her and Cas, nor the way Cas shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Dean turned his attention back to the food he was preparing.

“Sandwich, Cas?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Cas said quietly, sounding just as nervous as Dean was feeling.  

“You got it,” Dean answered, prepping a second sandwich and walking over to the table with them both.  Cas tentatively picked up the food, his fingers that had smote demons now awkwardly helping him take a bite of a pb&j.  Dean turned his gaze to the table before he did something embarrassing, like ask Cas how he was feeling.

They ate in silence, which had never been an issue for them before.  It was usually comforting, having Cas there but not feeling pressured to fill the space with conversation.  Tonight, Cas seemed uncomfortable, not with Dean, but with himself, almost like his clothes didn't fit quite right.

Except it wasn't his clothes, Dean realized, it was his  _ vessel _ that he was adjusting to _. _  Somehow knowing that made the silence that much more awkward, and Dean felt compelled to say something.

“So what do you think about having a phoenix under our roof?” Dean asked.  Cas finished chewing, his tongue sliding over the corner of his mouth to catch some stray peanut butter.  Dean averted his eyes.

“I understand why you don't trust her, Dean, but she has shown no ill will towards any of us.  She's been a good companion for Sam, and valuable for translations, and other information on the lore that Charlie has been organizing.  And I feel a certain kinship to her.”  

“Kinship?” Dean asked.

“She respects and admires humans, has chosen to live among them as opposed to using her power to harm them.  I'm sure you can see we have many things in common.”  As much as Dean hates to admit it, Cas has a point.  Dean stood to clean up the mess he’d made, his jaw twitching as he considers his next question.

“Do you miss being an angel?”  He said it all at once on an exhale, and had no idea why he was so nervous to hear Cas’ answer.  

“You mean, do I wish to return to being one?” Cas clarified for him.  Dean turned to face him, nodding once as he leaned on the counter.  Cas seemed to ponder that for a moment, eyes focused on a spot on the table.  “I miss my wings,” he said quietly, “I miss being able to help people like I used to, but…” Cas paused, and Dean watched the half smile grow on his face, the way the skin around his eyes wrinkles even though the curve of his lips is small.  “There's something about being human, about the experience of  _ everything _ , good and bad.  Even just taking a vessel was eye opening, and this surpasses that in ways I can’t describe.”  Cas’ little smile grows slightly, his eyes softening as he looks up at Dean.  “I've lived so many ages in this world, and nothing has been as fulfilling as these past few years have been with you.”  Dean swallowed hard under Cas’ open and trusting gaze.  Dean wondered when he’d be able to meet it and not feel the oppressive guilt.

“So you're saying that if you're stuck like this forever, you're okay with it?” Dean asks one more time.  Cas nods at him, confident and sure of himself and Dean has to look away, examining a spot on the floor.  His heart is pounding in his chest, and he's pretty sure he knows why, but can he really voice it?  Can he put a name to what's changing between them, knowing it will shatter his entire worldview?  He hears Cas stand up, his footsteps no longer silent without his angel-ness, and walk across the kitchen to rest his hand on Dean’s shoulder, the same arm that had once held the scar of Cas’ handprint.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas says simply, his fingers lingering for a gentle squeeze before trailing down his bicep as Cas pulls away.  Dean holds his breath until Cas has made it down the hallway, the air in his lungs whooshing out of him once he's sure Cas is out of earshot.  

It's too late at night for Dean to admit what just happened.  

Once he's tucked himself into bed, staring at the ceiling as he waits for sleep to come, it takes everything he has to keep the unnamed change out of his head.  But he keeps it out.

  
  


“What in the actual hell?” 

“Kevin, calm down-”

“Don't tell me to calm down!”

“I guess Kevin’s back,” Dean groans as he walks into the kitchen the next morning to a chorus of shouts.

“Oh, you heard?” Charlie sighed, continuing to eat her Cheerios like nothing was happening.  Kevin has backed himself into the corner and Sam, Dean’s assuming, is explaining their new guest to Kevin.

“Look, we've been through all this already, Kevin, she's not here to hurt us.  In fact, she's leaving today, so you don't even need to worry about her,” Sam reasoned.

“What, what?  Today?” Dean snapped.  The muscle in Sam’s jaw twitches, and he turns slowly to face Dean.

“I thought you'd rather she left sooner than later.”

“I’d rather she left alone,” Dean shot back.

“Oh my god, will you both just stop!” Charlie groaned loudly, grabbing her breakfast and leaving the room.

“Really, Dean?” Sam scoffed, like somehow this was all  _ Dean’s  _ fault.  He wasn't the one who showed up in the hotel room with some random chick-

“Good morning,” calls Cas’ sleep scratchy voice from behind Dean.  “Welcome back, Kevin,” he adds in a happier tone.  Sam mumbles a good morning to Cas as he brushes past Dean and leaves the room.

“Hey, Cas,” Kevin muttered cautiously.  “How's it going?”

“Well, thank you.”  Cas moved next to Dean, glancing at him curiously.  “Is everything alright?” he asked, head tilted slightly.  Dean averted his eyes.

“It's fine, Cas,” Dean grunted, grabbing a breakfast burrito out of the freezer and popping it in the microwave.

“How did a phoenix end up in here?  And why do I get the feeling that she means something slightly different to Sam than the rest of you?”  Kevin has dropped into one of the chairs, looking like he regrets every life choice he's ever made.

“She was under a spell, it guarded her true nature from me, in my weakened state,” Cas stated simply as he grabbed his own burrito, setting it on a plate while he waited for Dean’s food to finish.  He brushed against Dean’s left arm when he stepped up next to him, but jumped away like he'd been shocked the moment they made contact.  

“Cas?” Dean asked.  Cas kept his eyes focused on the microwave, a small flush in his cheeks but no other reaction.  The microwave beeped, and Dean grabbed his food, Cas putting his in while still avoiding touching or looking at Dean.

_ What in the actual fuck? _

“This is too much, guys, I'm going to go hit the tablet,” Kevin announced, rattled enough to  willingly sign himself up for that epic headache.  Dean simply nodded at Kevin as he walked out, taking a bite of his food.  It was too hot, and he burned his tongue slightly, but it gave him a moment to think in the time Cas took his food from the microwave and sat across from Dean.  

Cas had been perfectly fine last night, maybe even a bit more honest than Dean expected, nothing to explain why he was acting like Dean wasn't in the room just then.  He was even sitting different, hunched over as he ate, not his normal straight posture.  

And Dean suddenly remembered he still hadn't figured out what the blood in the bathroom was all about.

Dean was about to ask what was wrong when Annika and Sam walked in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Ann called in a singsong voice.  Dean grunted through his food and she rolled her eyes.  “Classy,” she sighed, grabbing the orange juice and pouring herself a glass.  Sam hung back, leaning on the door frame, and Dean could  _ feel _ his brother’s frustration from across the room.

“What do you want to say, Sam?” he snapped.  

“Nothing, Dean,” Sam sighed.

“That's a load of crap,” Dean huffed.

“Fine!” Sam snapped.  “I want you to stop treating me like I'm still lying in that hospital bed!”  Dean stood and turned to face Sam, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means, Dean, that since the trials you've treated me with kid gloves.”  Sam’s words ring with truth and guilt settles in Dean’s stomach.  “I'm healed, and I can take care of myself.  I know that almost losing me, losing Cas, scared you, and I don't blame you for that, but eventually, you've got to accept that we survived.”  Dean can feel Cas’ eyes on him, and he swallows hard.

_ Fuck _ , Sam’s right of course.

He's been so concerned about making sure they were both back from the trials that he didn't stop to realize they were already back.

“I still don't like you going off alone,” Dean huffed, nodding towards Ann.

“She's a  _ phoenix,  _ Dean.  I'm safer with her than with you,” Sam groaned.

_ Sam: 2, Dean: 0. _

“I just need to borrow Sam for a few days,” Annika added setting her empty glass in the sink.  “He can help me, and then I won't even  _ be  _ a phoenix anymore.”  She walked past Dean and out the door, pausing to look back at Sam.  Dean turned and met his brother’s eyes, and Sam raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Fine,” Dean snapped.  “But I need you to call me the  _ moment _ something goes sideways.”

“Of course,” Sam agreed, turning and following Ann down the hall.  Dean turned his attention back to his forgotten breakfast, his appetite nearly lost.  Cas was still there, staring at his empty plate.

“You feel like I've been handling you with “kid gloves”, too?” Dean asked, sighing heavily.

“No, Dean, you've,” Cas paused, raising his eyes to Dean’s.  “You've made my becoming human seem like a gift instead of the curse it could have been.  I don't, I don't believe I've thanked you for that,” he added quietly.

“Uh, you're welcome,” Dean mumbled, swallowing hard, unable to break his eyes away from Cas’.

That is, until his gaze darted to Cas’ lips.

As if that was his cue, Cas pushed back from the table, leaving the kitchen without another word, and Dean finished his burrito in confused silence.  

Once he’d finished eating and had a moment to think, Dean made his way down the hallway to the room Annika was using, not totally surprised to find her sitting on the bed next to her packed things like she was waiting for him.

“Come to tell me to get lost and leave your brother behind?” she asked with a smirk.  Dean wanted to,  _ boy _ did he want to.

“No, actually,” Dean sighed.  “I may not trust you, but I trust him, and if he wants to go I'm not stopping him.”  Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“Oh...wow, Dean, very mature.  I'm impressed,” she said quietly.

“I just have one question,” he said, ignoring the sarcastic jab.  “This spell Sam mentioned, it's permanent?”  Her eyes lost their teasing glint, sharpening with something else.

“One way or another,” she said evasively.  

“That's what I was afraid of,” Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his two day old stubble.  “Look, sees something in you, and I'm starting to think it's more than his usual bleeding heart crap.”  Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't say anything.  “So if anything happens, I will hunt you down and  _ make _ it permanent, capiche?”  She watched him a moment longer before she nodded, gathering up her things, and Dean stepped aside to let her leave.

She and Sam loaded up in a truck Sam had grown fond of, taking off into the early morning with a wave goodbye.  Dean stood quietly in the garage for a moment after they left, trying to wrap his head around the last 24 hours.  He couldn't ever  _ not  _ be worried about Sam, but he had to admit Sam had a point.  He was better now, and Dean really had no reason to keep treating him like the recovering coma patient from months ago.  Dean just prayed that everything worked out.

Course, Dean figured that with the one angel on their side being human now, his prayer probably wouldn't be answered.

 

It had been two days since Sam and Annika had left.  Charlie and Kevin did their nerd things, videogames and research, while Dean occupied himself with teaching Cas some more in the shooting range.  He was a quicker study with the shotguns than he was with the pistols, and even with the smaller guns he was hitting the targets more than he was missing them.  Dean wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed they didn’t have another ‘intimate’ moment.  

Dean catches wind of a case a few hours drive from the bunker, a simple haunting in an old farmhouse.  Grateful for an excuse to do something, Dean packs up the Impala, and is about to leave when Cas stumbles into the doorway of the garage with a bag on his shoulder.  Dean just barely catches a glimpse of Charlie’s retreating back.

“What's up, Cas?” Dean asks. 

“Charlie seems to think I need to go with you,” Cas said, gesturing at the Impala.  “She even packed my bag for me.  While I was not consulted on this, I have to admit I wouldn’t mind.”  Dean’s knee jerk reaction was to say  _ no _ , but Cas looks hopeful, and Dean knows he’s hardly gotten out of the bunker lately to do anything but grocery shop.  This  _ was  _ a simple salt and burn, open and shut case.

“Sure, Cas, climb in,” Dean agreed, waving him towards the Impala.  Cas doesn’t smile, but his eyes definitely light up as he makes his way over.  Once Cas’ things are tucked away in the car, Dean drives them out of the garage and out onto the road, handing Cas a file folder of information he’d gathered about the case.  Cas studies Dean’s notes in silence for a while, the rumble of the Impala comforting background noise.

“So these families all attempt to move into this farmhouse, and all end up leaving within a week?  Looks like a couple deaths, mostly family pets, but a few people…” Cas ponders aloud.

“Did some digging, turns out that the guy who built the place lost everything through gambling debts, his money, his wife, his career.  Tried to kill himself twice before he succeeded the third time,” Dean added.   _ Sammy isn’t the only one who knows how to Google. _

“That’s… terrible,” Cas said quietly, putting the file on the seat of the Impala between them.  Dean shrugged.

“Life is terrible sometimes, Cas, it’s not all rainbows and pixie dust.”  

“I don’t understand, what do the fae have to do with the prismatic effect of the sun shining through the rain?”  Dean glances at Cas, ready to attempt to explain the turn of phrase, only to see half a smile on his face.

“Did you- were you making a joke?!” Dean asks.

“I was attempting to,” Cas admitted, head tilting in confusion.  “Charlie has been working on what she refers to as my ‘weird literal personality’.  It seems to have helped my interactions with people outside the bunker.”  Dean is blindsided again by Cas’ desire to be human; Charlie had been coaching him, helping him adjust when all along Dean thought the two of them had been searching for a way to  _ restore _ his grace.

“That's, that's good, Cas.  That you're trying,” Dean says sincerely.  

“I really want to try.  To do what you and Sam do,” he continued, looking thoughtfully out the window.  “I have the knowledge, I might as well put it to use, even if it's in a different manner than I did previously.”  Dean's chest constricts, and it's an ache he's not used to feeling.

“You’ll get there,” Dean insisted, reaching across the seat to jostle Cas fondly, his hand resting on Cas’ shoulder.  

“With you as a teacher, I have no doubt.”  Cas’ compliment makes Dean smile, and he slowly lowers his hand back to his own lap.  Dean doesn't even bother to chastise himself for the “chick flick” of it all.  Without anyone else around, he didn't mind letting his guard down around Cas a bit.  Cas needed the confidence, and Dean… well, was it a bad thing for Dean to enjoy his company?

A couple hours later, Dean pulls into the closest motel to the farm, getting them a room and unloading some of the supplies from the Impala into the weapons bag.  Grabbing his and Cas’ bags of clothes, they walk into the motel room, decently clean by Dean’s standards, two queen beds, a small table, and a decently sized bathroom, all done in a burnt red color.  He drops the weapon bag on a bed and hands Cas his bag.

“Here, put on your suit,” Dean said, pulling his own suit out and laying it across the bed, making sure it hadn't wrinkled too badly.

“What's our plan?” Cas asked, kicking off his shoes and undoing his belt.  Dean averted his eyes, because yeah, Cas was just stripping down right there in the middle of the room.

“Insurance adjusters for a potential buyer,” Dean explained, tugging his button up off and removing his own shoes.  He could hear the rustle of clothing as Cas changed behind him, resolutely not turning around.

“So we’ll be asking about the previous owner’s experience in the home?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Dean agreed.  He chanced a glimpse over his shoulder, noting Cas had finished putting his pants and shirt on, facing away from Dean as he searched his bag for his tie.  Dean dropped his jeans and had his suit pants on faster than he'd ever changed before.  Considering he was the one that had to explain modesty to Castiel, the whole situation just felt...weird.  “Just follow my lead, we’ll be finished with this in a day, tops,” Dean attempted to sound as confident as possible, hoping his discomfort wasn’t obvious.  He finished shrugging into his jacket and turned to see Cas struggling in the mirror with his tie, frowning at his reflection.  “Need some help?” Dean asked.

“Apparently.”  Cas huffed a sigh.  “No matter how many times Charlie has tried to teach me, this is not a skill I've mastered.”  Dean walks over, taking the strip of fabric out of his hands with a smile.

“Just takes practice,” Dean chuckled.  Cas had forgotten to do up his top button, so Dean reached up to fasten it. A memory comes to mind, of their failed attempt at a night on the town, the day they'd captured Raphael.  Dean can't help his wistful smile as he gets the button done, his fingers brushing the skin of Cas’ neck, warmer than Dean expected.  He wraps the tie around, stepping closer to reach the back of his collar and make sure it's not twisted.  Cas is watching his hands work, thankfully, and not watching as Dean’s cheeks redden from being so close to him.  Close enough to see the spots of stubble Cas had missed shaving, see the way his brow wrinkles as he concentrates on the movements of Dean's fingers.  

There's suddenly not enough air in the motel room.  Dean clears his throat as he tightens up the knot, smoothing the tie out once he's done.  

“There, all presentable,” Dean forced himself to smile, clapping Cas on the shoulder as his eyes meet the angel’s, hoping they wouldn't give his frazzled emotions away.

“Thank you,” Cas says, raising his hand to brush along the fabric, turning to examine the knot in the mirror.  Dean realizes it's the first time he's seen Cas in his suit since the night he became human, and the realization makes his heart thump painfully in his chest.  Cas was a different person now; the suit was a sort of symbol of his life as an angel, so seeing him back in it was a little unsettling.

“Let's get this show on the road,” Dean said gruffly, grabbing their fake credentials, his wallet, and his keys.  

They made their way to the local police station, looking at some of the older, non digital police reports, before finding the last known person who lived on that property, and who was thankfully still in town.  Dean drove them to the duplex she was living in, pulling up in front of the building and nudging Cas with his elbow.

“Wanna take the lead on this?” he asked.

“You’re okay with that?” Cas asked, blinking in confusion.

“Eliza Petty is in her 70’s, she ain't nothing to be afraid of,” Dean chuckled.  Cas nodded, climbing out of the car and nervously smoothing down his hair.  Dean nudged him from behind encouragingly as Cas took the final steps up to the door, knocking and stepping back to wait.  An older woman answered the door.

“Yes?” she snapped curtly.  Cas pulled out his credentials.

“Hello, ma’am, my name is Mr. Blake, this is my collegue Mr. Tanner.  We work for Freedom Mutual-”

“That's nice,” she interrupted.  “What do you want?”  Cas hesitated a moment, tucking the papers back in his jacket.

“We’d like to speak with you about the property at 1583 Pine-”

“If God is good he’ll burn that house to the ground.  I'm done with you people coming around asking about that place.”  Dean had obviously underestimated Eliza, and was about to jump in and give Cas a hand but Cas spoke before he could.

“Please,” Cas said gently.  “We know the history of the house, we’re not asking you to relive it.”  Her frown softened slightly, and Cas pushed on.  “We just want to know if there's anything else you might be able tell us.  Anything out of the ordinary.”  She watches Cas closely for a moment, sizing him up, and to Cas’ credit he doesn't flinch.

“Basement needs some work,” she finally grunted.  “That's all I gotta say.”

She slammed the door in Cas’ face.

“Wow, she should tell us how she really feels,” Dean mumbled.

“I don't understand, did I do something wrong?” Cas asked.  Dean shook his head, turning back to the Impala.

“Actually, no Cas.  You did good.  Better than I would have probably,” Dean admitted.  Cas dropped into the passenger seat, tugging absently at the knot on his tie.

“But we didn't get anything new from her,” Cas sighed.

“Sure we did,” Dean chuckled.  “We know to check the basement.”  Cas’ brow furrowed in confusion, then relaxed as he figured out what Dean was saying.

“So, she was trying to tell us where to look without actually saying it?  But… why not just say it?” Cas wondered.

“Sometimes, when things hurt too much, people can't talk about it,” Dean explained.   _ I'm a fucking walking, talking example.   _ “She couldn't bring herself to tell us  _ what  _ was wrong with the basement, but you got her to open up just a bit.”  Dean shifted in his seat when he felt Cas’ stare fall on his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I'm great,” Dean laughed nervously, even though he didn't really know why he was nervous.  “What makes you think I'm not?”

“I don't know,” Cas admitted.  “Since Ann came to the bunker you have been acting...different.”

“How have I been ‘acting different’?” Dean wondered.  Had his dawning awareness that  _ something  _ had changed between them become obvious?

“You’re…more cautious, if that's the right word?  About what you say and do,” Cas tries to explain.  “But I've only really noticed it when we’re alone…”  Dean tenses, because of  _ course  _ Cas would notice.  But Dean’s not ready, he's not ready to talk about this because he doesn't even know what  _ this  _ is.

“Look, Cas, can we not do this right now?” he grumbles.

“If I have done something wrong-”

“You didn't do anything,” Dean insisted.  

“Then why is it me?  Why have you only changed around me?”  

“I don’t know,” Dean shouts suddenly, “maybe the fact that I almost lost you is catching up to me?!”  _ Smooth Winchester. _  His embarrassment adds to his discomfort with the situation as Cas sits back in his seat, confused by Dean’s outburst.

“I understand-”

“No, you don't,” Dean grunted.  “You can't because you…”. He swallowed hard, ignoring the surprise on Castiel’s face.  “Can we just drop this please?”

“I had to try to save Sam,” Cas said, like it explained everything.  

Maybe it did.  He hadn't talked to Cas about what happened in the church since it happened.  True to form he's been clinging to his guilt and ignoring everything else he'd felt that night.  He'd forgotten how  _ angry _ he was, how bitter he felt because his brother and his best friend would so easily just throw themselves away.  This had been brewing under his skin for a while, and Cas had just said the right thing to trigger it.  

“And I'm grateful, I am.  But Cas, you nearly  _ died-” _

“I was aware of the consequences.”  Dean barked a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, of course you were, but did you even think about the implications behind those consequences?” Dean spat.  Tension fills the car between them as Dean’s emotions continue to tumble mindlessly from his mouth.  

“What if I had returned to heaven right away?  What if Metatron hadn't been subdued, had finished what he started and cast the angels out?”

“We would have dealt with it,” Dean snapped.  “I'm freakin thrilled that the demons are gone, that all their shit is behind us, but I would rather deal with all the demons and all the angels in this world than lose you, or Sam.”

“There was more at stake than our lives.”  Cas had a point, but Dean couldn't concede it.

“Not for me.  Losing one of you would have…”  Dean’s throats tightens and he stops talking, a brief silence filling the car.

“We survived, Dean,” Cas pointed out softly.

“ _ Survived,”  _ Dean scoffed.

“Dean, Sam’s fine.   _ I'm _ fine-”

“But you're not,” Dean interrupted.  “Cas you're  _ human _ .  You gave up everything to save Sam, because you knew I needed him.”  Dean’s worry and anger he felt sitting by Cas’ bed are back in force, and they're nearly choking him.  “But did you for one second stop and think about how I need  _ you  _ too?!  Did you consider that you're not expendable to me?!”  Dean realizes he’s yelling again and snaps his mouth shut before he says anything else mortifyingly stupid, avoiding looking at Cas at all.  He swallows hard, refusing to think about how utterly broken he'd felt when Cas didn't wake up right when Sam did.

“Dean…”  He hears Cas’ apology in the way he says his name, and all his anger leaves him, exhaustion replacing it.

“Let’s just get this done,” Dean said quietly.

Cas didn't say another word until they'd changed, packed up their gear, and were on their way to the farmhouse later that evening.  Dean wasn't sure if the silence was better or worse.

Dean parks in front of the farm and walks around to the trunk of the Impala.  He hands Cas a shotgun and some salt rounds, which Cas tucks in his pockets, grabbing a couple iron rods out of the trunk and handing one of those to Cas as well.  Cas grips it confidently, watching the house as Dean grabs the bag with the salt and lighter fluid.

“Should we clear the house first or head straight to the basement?” Cas wonders quietly.

“No need to risk pissing him off early, straight to the basement,” Dean decides.  Cas nods and falls into step behind him as they walk inside.  Dean is trying to focus, he really is, but his emotions are still running tense from earlier.

Was Cas feeling the same shift in their friendship?  Was that what he was trying to talk to Dean about?  He kind of felt like an ass for snapping at Cas like that, but if there was one thing he was good at it was deflecting emotional tension with anger.

Was it too much to just want Cas safe and happy?  

They walked downstairs with no incident, the streetlight shining in the dingy window from outside and their flashlights the only illumination in the room.

“Where do we start?” Cas asked. 

“I'll start over there,” Dean pointed at the far corner, “you can start over here.”

“What am I looking for?”  Cas and Dean looked at each other for a moment before Dean shrugged, and Cas  _ almost  _ rolled his eyes. 

The entire floor was concrete, which didn't bode well if the body was buried there, and Dean wasn't finding anything else special about the room.  He was about to call it a night when Cas spoke up.

“Dean, I think I-”  He was cut off with a shout and Dean spun to see Cas sliding across the floor, and a pissed off spirit headed straight for him.

“Cas!”  Dean swung the rod, bisecting the ghost and rushing to Cas’ side.  He grabbed hold of Cas’ elbow to help him up, and Cas staggered to his feet.

“I’m fine- Dean, look out!”  Cas brought up his shotgun, firing over Dean’s shoulder and sending the spirit packing again.  Dean raised an impressed eyebrow and Cas shrugged.

“Did you find something?” Dean asked.

“I think so,” Cas nodded, breathing heavily.  “But-”  Cas was thrown bodily into Dean, sending them both flying across the room.  Dean managed to break most of Cas’ fall, but Cas lost his shotgun in the process.  “I just need some time,” Cas insisted, pushing off of Dean’s body.  Dean nodded, scrambling to his feet and getting a round off at the spirit from his own shotgun, Cas’ lying useless halfway across the room.

“Okay, I can do that,” Dean insisted, cocking his shotgun and moving off in the opposite direction of Cas.  “Come on, come get me you ugly bastard,” he mumbled.  The spirit materialized in between them, and before Dean could get a shot off he disappeared and reappeared right in front of Cas, grabbing hold of Cas’ shirt and tossing him into the plywood wall behind him, the wall crumbling to pieces.  “Cas!”  Dean got off a shot, but missed, and as he scrambled to reload he found himself lifted up off the floor, the spirit’s cold hands on his neck.  He gasped for air, trying to dig a salt round out of his pocket to empty it over the ghost’s head.

“I'm sorry,” Cas’ weirdly calm voice cut through the room, and as the spirit turned to face him Cas dropped a lit match, the remainder of the wall he'd destroyed and the remains it contained going up in flames, along with the spirit.  Dean managed to catch himself before he fell on his ass, staggering to keep his feet.

“You had to apologize to him?” Dean gasped incredulously, rubbing at his neck.

“He didn't plan to become a vengeful spirit,” Cas shrugged.  Cas was covered in dust, splinters of wood clinging to his clothes, but he wasn't bleeding that Dean could see.  He was staring at the flames as they burned, chest still heaving as he caught his breath.

“You okay?” Dean asked, walking up next to him.  Cas turned to face him and broke out into a grin.

“I'm good.”  

“You gonna make me feel guilty if I don't apologize to every ghost we take out, now?” Dean laughed, clapping Cas on the shoulder.  A cloud of dust floated off of him, and for some reason that made Dean laugh again.

“That will not be necessary,” Cas hummed in amusement.  They waited until the fire was out, the concrete floor helping keep it under control, before gathering up their things and walking towards the car.  Dean glanced at Cas’ messy clothes as he lowered the bag into the trunk, and a stupidly vain part of him didn't want all that mess in his baby.

“Here, take your shirt off,” Dean insisted, pulling off his overshirt.  “Put this on instead.”  Cas looked down at himself, nodding and taking his tshirt off.  

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said simply.  He used the cleaner inside of the shirt to wipe down his arms and neck, and Dean handed him his button up, which Cas shrugged into, doing up a few of the buttons.  Dean’s shirt fit Cas pretty well, Cas’ shoulders were just as broad, but his hips were a bit narrower. 

Dean noticed himself noticing and turned away quickly.

“I think I've got a blanket in the back, since I'm  _ not  _ giving you my pants,” Dean quipped, ducking into the backseat and pulling the blanket into the front seat.  He laid it over the bench and Cas sat down carefully, keeping his dirty clothes on the blanket.  Sam would have scoffed at Dean and just gotten in the car filthy.  Cas seemed to understand just how much the car meant to Dean, and was almost as concerned about getting dirt on the seat as Dean was.  Dean kind of adored him for it, but he'd never say those words aloud,  _ ever _ .

Dean drove them back to the motel, lost in his thoughts as he mindlessly hummed along to the radio.  Cas had handled the hunt calmly, and while it was only a simple ghost, Dean felt a weird sense of relief.  If he really didn't feel Cas was a liability on a hunt, they could do this more often, just the two of them.  Cas wouldn't sit around the bunker feeling useless, Sam could lay off hunting if he wanted, and Dean would have… Cas.

Cas was right, Dean  _ had _ changed recently.  Before the trials, Dean would never have found himself sitting here thinking about how happy he was that Cas was here to stay.  That Cas  _ wanted  _ to stay, wanted to hunt with Dean, to really be a part of Dean’s life.  Dean didn't deserve it, he hadn't been the best friend or ally to Cas over the years, but now he could.  He could try to make it up to him, to show Cas just how much he means to Dean.  Even if Dean’s to afraid to admit it to himself.

The good thing is the hunt seems to have burned off the negative feelings that had made Dean so tense before, and their argument seems to be behind them.  It wasn't really an argument anyway, just Dean venting his frustration that Cas was so selfless.  Which in turn made him feel a bit worse about it, because he was being  _ selfish _ . 

As they walk back in their room, Dean pulled out his phone and ordered a pizza, grabbing a beer out of the mini fridge they'd stocked before leaving.  Cas had taken off his shoes, and was in the process of combing splinters of wood out of his hair with his fingers.

“How did you know where the body was?” Dean asked curiously, taking a long drag of the beer and moving over to his bed, going through his bag to find his pajamas.

“The wall served no purpose,” Cas explained, turning from the mirror and walking towards his bed.  “It wasn't weight bearing, and it didn't quite make the room two rooms.  It just seemed out of place.”

“First off, I’m impressed you know all that,” Dean chuckled.  

“Charlie watches a lot of these home improvement shows when she's working,” Cas explained, and Dean shook his head with a smile.

“Second, I'm kinda proud of you, following your gut like a proper hunter.”  

“I guess I did,” Cas shrugged, smiling at Dean.  “That was...kind of fun,” he admitted.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.”  Dean’s hand moves on it's own, reaching up to brush Cas’ cheek.  His skin is still filthy, and his stubble is rough, but as soon as Dean touches him he doesn't want to pull away.

“You're welcome.”  Dean’s voice sounds softer than he expected, and he flushed slightly as Cas turns from Dean with a small smile, opening his bag and pulling his own pajamas out.  He takes off Dean’s shirt and hands it back to him before moving towards the bathroom.  Dean drops the shirt on his bed and tucks his hand nervously in his pocket, his eyes finding the floor like it's going to offer some sort of inspiration.  “Look, Cas, about earlier, I uh, I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“Dean-”

“Let me say this,” Dean huffed.  Apologizing was hard enough without Cas telling him he didn't need to do it.

“ _ Dean!”  _ Cas’ voice shook, and Dean looked up in time to watch Cas fall forward as his knees buckle under him, barely catching himself on the wall.

“Cas!”  Dean scrambles to his side, helping him turn and lean against the wall.

“Call...Charlie…” Cas grunts out, sliding down the wall to sit.

“Cas?!”  A streak of blood follows Cas’ slide, a red drag mark on the crappy wallpaper, and Dean flashes back to the blood he found in the shower.  But  _ where  _ was the blood coming from?!  Cas is trying to focus on Dean’s face and failing, his eyes drifting away over his shoulder.  “Shit,” Dean sighed, maneuvering Cas so he could get in behind him.  Dean slides his arms around Cas’ bare chest and lifts, grunting with the effort.  Cas is dead weight in his arms, but adrenaline helps Dean get Cas up on one of the beds.

And that's when he sees where the blood is from.

Two wounds have opened up on his back, jagged and ugly, right where his wings would be.


	8. 8. Close to the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next couple chapters rolled out of my head beautifully fast, so I should be updating again fairly soon! In the meantime, enjoy! :)

_ (Sam) _

 

Sam watches the bunker shrink in the rear view mirror as he heads east towards the interstate.

“You know, you can drop me at the bus station, if you want,” Annika said quietly.  “Like I said last night, they know you're with me.  This isn't going to be easy.”

“Which is why I'm not leaving you to do this alone,” Sam insisted, and not for the first time.  They lapse into silence, music playing from Annika’s Spotify station filling the car with a soft white noise.  

In spite of what Dean’s face had said this morning, Sam and Ann hadn't restarted their unexpected teenage makeout session.  In fact, they'd spent the entire evening planning their route, mapping out side roads and places to double back in case they were being followed.  Sam knew how it felt to live life that way, they'd lived it for months when the leviathan were looking for them.  Ann took it to a new level; it was  _ all  _ she knew.  In fact, Sam was almost 90% sure that the past few days in the bunker were probably the safest she'd felt in  _ years. _

Not that she'd admit it to him.

He admired that about her, though, her strength and her independence.  On the surface she played it off as arrogance and the self assuredness of knowing you'll never lose a fight, but when she let her guard down, that armor didn't extend to her emotions.  Being alive and yet being alone had taken its toll on her, and Sam wasn't surprised she'd taken to living with humans to alleviate her loneliness.

They’ve finished their first loop back and are halfway through Missouri when Ann finally says something.

“Have you ever looked out the window and just... seen what's there?” she asked.

“What, like, the trees and stuff?” Sam chuckled.  She shot him a glare.

“Yes, the trees, but not as places for werewolves to hide.  Have you ever seen an old house and not thought about if it's haunted?  Seen a graveyard and not thought about which corpse to dig up?”  Sam watched an old barn go by outside the truck’s window, and sighed heavily, remembering a vampire nest, his father, and the Colt.

“No, I guess I don’t,” he admitted.  “Hunting is all I've ever known, I haven't had the luxury.”  He glanced at her, dressed in her military looking fatigues, knowing the weaponry she had hidden in her many pockets, and he winced, because compared to her long life, Sam has had it easy.  She must sense his remorse, because she shifted in her seat, turning onto her side to look out the window.  

“The world can be a beautiful place, if you stop seeing evil everywhere,” she mumbled.  

“I know,” Sam agreed.  He'd seen that beauty a few times in life, in the short moments he was able to leave the hunter’s life behind, and he was able to make himself forget for a while.  He glanced at her back, swallowing down his nerves.  “Last night, for example,” he said quietly.

“It was one kiss, Sam.  And it wasn’t that good,” she scoffed at the window.  

“Not that- wow, way to give a guy a complex,” Sam sighed.  

“I try,” she hummed.  Sam flushed, because he could practically hear the smile on her face.

“I was trying to have a serious conversation,” Sam grumbled.

“And all I'm saying,” she turned back to face him, “is it was a kiss.  Sam, you know that we...whatever this chemistry is, it can't last.”  She doesn't gentle the words, they're said matter of fact, and Sam can appreciate that.

“I don't see why not,” Sam countered.

“There's a list bigger than your brother’s ego of reasons that would be a bad idea.”  

“I’m not saying this is some fairy tale romance crap,” Sam says, letting the comment about Dean slide.  “All I'm saying is I enjoy your company, and I’d love it if you'd stick around for a while.”  

“It's dangerous,” she said, like that mattered to Sam.

“I can be dangerous,” Sam pointed out.  The unamused smirk from her hurt his pride a bit but he pushed on.  “Look, why are you fighting me so hard on this?  I'm not asking you to commit to anything.”  She watched him closely, her silver eyes sharp and calculating.

“Because you're already too attached, Sam.”  

And Sam doesn't quite know what to say to that.

 

They're just about at St. Louis, after making another loop back around, and Annika has entered the GPS address of a safe house into Sam’s phone.  At least, he thinks she did, but they're being led into the middle of nowhere, and he's starting to get uneasy.

“You sure this place is safe?” he asks as they take a turn onto a dirt road.

“Safer than your batcave,” she chuckled.  “Here we are, pull up this path,” she pointed at a dirt driveway heading off into some trees.  Sam hesitated, but turned the truck up the road, bouncing on the uneven ground.  They go about a hundred feet before the truck comes to a full stop on its own, the engine dying completely.

“Uh, that's not-”

“It's okay,” Ann reassured him quickly, smiling as she undid her seatbelt and opened the truck door.

“Wait- Ann!” Sam scrambled to climb out of the truck and follow her forward.

“Annika!” a woman’s voice pierced the darkness, making Sam stop short.  “Come here my darling, so good to see you again!”  Sam blinks as six torches spring to life around them, an older woman draped in brightly colored scarves walking up to embrace Annika warmly.  She had gone gray in her old age, her pale skin wrinkled and marked by age, but there was vigor in her movements, and a brightness in her eyes that told Sam not to mess with her.

“She brought a Winchester,” one of the torch bearers said urgently, a young girl, about 16, with dark skin and an intelligent face.

“Yes, she warned me she was,” the old woman said, raising an eyebrow at the girl.  Sam shifts awkwardly as they all stare at him, their leader walking over to him and reaching up to touch his cheek.  “Welcome to my coven, sir.  Behave yourself, and you have nothing to fear from us.”  She turns and walks back past Ann, smiling at her before waving.  All the torchbearers turned and started following her deeper into the woods Ann following along.  Sam moves to Ann’s side, grabbing her arm to slow her walk a bit behind their escorts.

“Witches?” he hissed in a whisper.  “We’re staying with witches?”

“Yeah, so?” she seemed totally unconcerned, and slightly amused by Sam’s panic.

“You could have warned me,” Sam insisted.  She rolled her eyes, pulling her arm out of his grip.

“Calm down,” she sighed.  “Aislin isn't one of the witches you're used to, the ones that tap into demonic energy for their magic.  They tap into the earth, their spells work mostly for healing and preservation.”  Sam felt the eyes of the young girl on him, lingering in the back of the group to watch them.

“They don't trust me,” Sam pointed out, “and I'm supposed to trust them?”

“I've vouched for you,” she said simply.  “It’ll be enough.”  They follow the witches through the woods for about ten minutes, a hidden clearing opening up in front of them.  Small wooden houses are scattered around a larger building about the size of a church, with beautiful gardens and plants sprouting up absolutely everywhere.  The torchlight and lamps posted throughout full the clearing with a bright yellow light, giving the place a wholesome and welcoming feel.  The air smelled like incense and pine, and it had a calming effect on his nerves.

“Come, join us for dinner, and some dancing,” Aislin called to them from the front of their procession.  The six other witches dispersed into the villiage, and Sam and Annika follow Aislin down to the main building.  It was done all in wood, the main room filled with wooden couches and seats piled high with pillows.  A large circular dining table with place settings for about 15 people took up the back half of the room.

“Same bedroom as before?” Ann asked, and Aislin smiled.

“Of course, sweetheart.  I'm going to go make sure they set out some more food for your friend here, why don't you go change.”  Aislin turned left, and Sam followed Ann down a hallway to the right, waking nearly to the end before pushing open a door.  The bedroom was small, just big enough for one queen sized bed, with two fluffy comforters folded on top of it, and one dresser.  A small lamp in the corner of the room gave off just enough light to see by.  Sam shifts awkwardly when he realizes what one bed with two blankets might mean.

“Am I, uh, do I get my own room, or-”

“Don't be such a baby,” Annika sighed, going into the dresser and pulling out some clothes that were waiting inside it.  “We’re both adults, we each have our own blanket.”  She shoved past a dumbfounded Sam and back out the door.  “Bathroom is the next door on the left, I'm going to change, then you can have a turn.”  She walked off, and Sam blinked at the empty space she had just been standing in. 

They were going to share a bed.  

“She's right,” he said to himself, turning from the door and facing the room, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his ridiculous nerves.  “She's right, I'm an adult, it's not a big deal.”

“Apparently it is if you have to talk to yourself about it.”  Sam spun to see the young girl from earlier smirking at him with his bag of clothes over her shoulder, and one of Ann’s bags as well.  “Names Breda, by the way,” she huffs.

“Sam, though I think you knew that,” he says awkwardly.  She rolls her eyes at him.  

“Here, I was told to get these for you,” she sighed, dropping the bags on the floor.

“I, uh, thanks, I guess,” Sam muttered, picking up his bag and setting it on the bed.  The girl was still standing in the doorway, staring at him.  “Is there something you wanted?” he asked.

“No, just...trying to decide if you live up to your legend.”  She looked him over one last time before waving her hand dismissively.  “I don't know you're more...derpy than I thought you'd be.”  Before he could defend himself she turned and walked off.  Sam shot Charlie a quick text to check in, pacing over to the window to look outside.  People were making their way towards the big house, smiling and laughing, and Sam starts to relax a little.  He waits in the room for Ann to come back, but after a while it becomes apparent she isn't going to, and Sam will have to brave the room full of witches on his own.

If Sam wasn't so hungry he'd just curl up in bed and sleep till it was time to leave.  As it was, he made his way back out into the main hall, noticing that a handful of people were setting the table and that others had started to take seats.  The two next to Aislin’s left were noticeably empty, so Sam made his way towards them.  He could hear murmurs from the others about a hunter being there, but it was more on the lines of curious than malicious.

“Sam Winchester, you have quite the reputation,” Aislin hummed, patting the chair next to her.

“I, uh, I hope it's not too terrible,” Sam says awkwardly as he sits, feeling smaller than the woman next to him in spite of his actual size.  Aislin had a definite  _ presence, _ and right now she was sizing Sam up.

“You locked away the demons,” she says simply.  “Those witches who relied on that evil to work their spells and magic are powerless now.  We hide here in our community because they've given us a bad name for centuries.  Now that they're gone, we can hopefully live in a little less fear.”  Sam flushed, thankful for the distraction of food being served.  He hadn't considered that side of things, how the demons being gone would have a ripple effect across the entire supernatural world.

“This spread is amazing, you're showing off for Sam aren't you?” Ann teased Aislin as she dropped into the chair next to Sam.  Her hair was down, loosed from its normal, practical braid, and she was draped in some sort of shawl, made out of a lighter fabric than her normal combat type gear.  Added to her relaxed body language and it was like Sam was seeing her for the first time.

“Well, maybe a little,” the old woman said with a wink at Sam.  The food is delicious, roasted vegetables and chicken, with a homemade gravy.  Once Sam has a little food in his stomach, he starts to get curious.

“So, with the demons gone, does that mean all black magic is gone?”  

“Unfortunately, no.  Witches with natural born talent can still do black magic without calling on a demon to work it.”  Aislin took a drink of some wine, sighing heavily.  “But that's what you and your brother are for, right?”  

Sam sits back quietly, letting the conversation flow around him and watching this group of witches.  Men and women sat at the table, even more standing or sitting in spare chairs behind them.  Annika seems to fit right in, everyone knows her and she greets most of the witches with hugs and smiles.  

As Sam watches, she relaxes and becomes a totally different person, quick to laugh, her teeth flashing in wide smiles and eyes bright and happy.  It's such a change from the quiet, distrustful person Sam’s gotten used to and he can't seem to stop staring.

She's absolutely  _ beautiful _ when she smiles.  Not a smirk, not a sassy, sarcastic thing, but a  _ real _ smile.

Once the food is cleared away, the group migrated to the big clearing outside, a handful of them picking up fiddles, drums, and flutes, starting up a lively Celtic beat that sets some of them dancing.  Wine and other spirits are being passed around, and Sam takes a glass, moving to the side to hang back from the main group.  

“I don't know how you got caught up in her life,” Aislin says quietly from behind Sam, making him nearly spill his wine.

“At first I thought it was her getting caught in mine,” Sam said quietly, watching Annika as she turned people down when they asked her to dance.  She was even comfortable enough to take her glove off, her left hand noticeably bare in the firelight.  “I'm starting to get the impression it's the other way around.”

“Hmm.”  Aislin pauses, watching the group as the song ends and they start to chant for another song.  “I love her like my own daughter, but yet she is so much older than me.  It's a strange thing to want to protect someone when nothing you can do is better than what they can do themselves.”  One of the fiddle players steps forward, playing a slower melody on their own, and a hush falls over the crowd.  “Ah, the Butterfly,” Aislin sighed happily.  Sam watched for a moment, noticing that a handful of the younger kids were tugging and begging Annika to dance now.

“How did she meet you guys?” Sam asked.  

“She saved us, once, a long, long time ago.  Before my great grandmother’s time.”  She gestures vaguely at the large fire in the center of the camp.  “Phoenix fire is a powerful thing, and burns with a vengeance.  Ever since, Anni has continued to watch over us, and in turn we pay her back with whatever we can, even if it's just a place to stay.”  She doesn't seem to be elaborating any further, so Sam focuses in on Annika as she gives in to the pull of the kids, her shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders as she starts to sway in time to the music.  

The group clears out, making a ring wide around her, and when Annika gives a nod to the fiddle player, the song speeds up suddenly, the group clapping in time to the drums and whistling as she unfolds her arms, the shawl flapping around her in shades of gold and silver as she moves.  Sam notices she's wearing a halter top dress, made of the same light fabric as her shawl, and it swirls around her as she dances, her hair flowing as she spins and jumps.  Her eyes are closed and there's a determined smile on her face.  

Awestruck doesn't quite cover how Sam feels, but it's the closest he can get.  Watching her move, he tries to wrap his head around the fact that she looks so young and vibrant, yet he knows she’s not.  There’s pain in her long life, cuts so deep she shouldn't have healed, and yet here she is, laughing like she hasn't a care in the world.  As the song is builds to its climax, the group around her starts to back up, and a few moments later, Sam knows why.  As the fiddler finishes the last of the complicated riffs, she spins and the shawl goes up in a burst of flame, a ring of bright yellow fire forming around her feet as the song ends.  Sam finds himself on his feet, cheering and clapping with the rest, and as she catches her breath in her circle of fire, her eyes meet his.  No longer silver, they're a bright gold, like an eagle’s eyes, and Sam is unable to look away, fixed by her stare.

She blinks heavily a couple times and her eyes return to their normal silver as she turns away.  Holding her hands out, palms downward, she lowers them slowly, the fire at her feet going out in a small puff of smoke.  She smiles graciously at everyone, but excuses herself, hurrying up to the house, her dress swirling in her wake.

“Beautiful, isn't it?  I love that folk song,” Aislin sighs, reminding Sam there are more people around than just him and Ann.  “I'm the one that taught her that little jig.  Years ago of course, these knees aren't what they used to be.”  Sam doesn't believe that for a second, but he indulges her with a smile.

“I wish we had more time to stay and enjoy some more nights of this,” Sam said honestly.  He had a feeling a lot of these people knew a different side of Annika, and he really would like more time to see what that side of her was like.  

“ I know where you two are going,” Aislin says to Sam as he starts to follow her up to the house.  “You both need to be careful.”  Sam nods, continuing back up to the main house while another song starts playing in the clearing below him.

He knows he has to be careful, because he can already feel the pull Annika has on him.  No matter how many times he tries to remind himself what she  _ is _ , he can't stop himself from being drawn in.  The most dangerous part is he’s starting to think the same thing is happening to her.  His heart is already starting to hope that she's feeling the same pull he is, and his brain is unhelpfully supplying all sorts of logical arguments to support this assumption.  He knows if he's wrong he's setting himself up for a world of hurt, but he can't stop thinking it anyway.

Sam walks into the main house, strangely empty after the chaos of dinner.  He walks down the hallway to the room they're sharing, stepping into the open door just in time to see Annika’s bare back disappear under a tshirt, the dress hanging from a hook on the wall.  He drops his gaze quickly with a nervous cough.

“Sorry, the, uh, you left the door open-”

“Oh, guess I did,” she said casually.  She climbs into bed, and Sam continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway until she huffs a sigh and throws her comforter over her head.  “Come on, Sam, the longer you stand there hovering the worse it gets for you.” 

“Sorry, I-, I'm just gonna change…”  He moves to his bag, pulling a pair of pajamas out and his toothbrush, running into the bathroom and making quick work of getting ready for bed.  When he returns to the room, the light is off, and he uses his phone’s flashlight to find his way to his side of the bed, crawling in and laying out on his back.

He can’t sleep.  His brain is buzzing, partly from the rather strong wine that was served with dinner, but mostly because of the person laying in bed next to him.  

“I can  _ feel  _ your anxiety from over here,” Annika sighed.  

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, rolling onto his side to face her.  There was just enough light coming in from outside the room that he could see her raised eyebrow.  “That was beautiful, by the way, the dance,” Sam added quietly.  She shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t laying on, rolling onto her stomach and hugging her pillow.

“Just a bit of spectacle.  I did it once kind of on accident and the kids always ask me to do it again.”  

“That’s not what I meant.”  Sam’s words, aided by the alcohol and the intimate setting, are running unfiltered from his mouth, but he doesn’t really care at this point.  “Seeing you so relaxed and trusting.  I don’t think I’ve ever really felt that way, even at school.  I mean, I was  _ out,  _ for four years, and now look at me, 8 years later and I’m still…”

“I’ve known this coven for centuries,” she pointed out.  “Trust me, it wasn’t always this easy between us.”  She pulls her left hand out from under the pillow, her glove back in place.  “A member of this coven helped me with this binding, you know.  For the first time I felt… like this burden had been lifted off my shoulders, and I could breathe.”

“That’s how I felt after the trials,” Sam said quietly.  “Like every bad decision I made, between the apocalypse and Lucifer… like I’d paid it back to the world, done some good for once.” 

“You’ve done a lot of good,” Annika said.  “A lot more than you give yourself credit for.”  

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sam sighs, swallowing hard as he rolls over onto his back again, staring at the patterns the wooden beams made on the ceiling.  Ann shifts in the bed, her face coming into view above him.

“You know how I get through all the miserable shit life throws my way?” she asks.  He raises his eyebrows in question.  “I take the good where I find it, and when the bad shit happens,” her eyes flash gold for a brief moment, “I fuck it up so bad it won't hurt anyone else.”

“That's kinda terrifying,” Sam laughs nervously.  She smirks, shrugging her shoulder, some of her hair sliding down her arm to rest against Sam’s chest.

“Works better than any “daddy has a shotgun” warning ever did.”  She smiles at Sam, and for the first time he can see through the exterior she's projecting, the confidence she covers her pain with.  Sam hesitantly reaches up to brush her hair back over her shoulder, the silky texture soothing against his skin.  She turns her head slightly into his touch before moving closer to him, her warmth pressed against his side.

“What happened to me being too attached?”  He’s afraid to ask the question, to remind her she's breaking her own rule, but he has to.  He has to know this isn't alcohol or the convenience of sharing a bed.  He needs to know she wants this, just like he does.

“Damage is done,” she sighed, sitting back on her heels.  She does her hair up in a messy braid, tossing it back over her shoulder before crawling over him, resting on his lower stomach without crushing him.  His heart starts to beat hard in anticipation as she leans over, his hands sliding up her thighs to rest on her hips as their lips meet.

This feels different than the last time, something has changed since their kiss at the bunker.  It's measured, careful and precise, her fingers wrapped up in his shirt tightly like she's  _ scared  _ of this.  Sam sits up, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him, his other hand moving up to cradle her jaw as he deepens the kiss.  He wants this,  _ god  _ does he want this, but the tightness in her grip on his shoulders makes him take this slow, in spite of the situation below his waist.  She breaks the kiss and lowers her head, his lips pressed against her forehead.

“Sam…” her voice is a whisper, and he wraps his other arm around her, holding her close.

“Why are you afraid?” he asks gently.

“Because I’m so close,” she sighs, lowering her head to tuck in against his neck.  “I can feel it coming, physically feel it.”

“Feel what coming?”  She pulls away, pushing him gently until he scoots back against the headboard, then crawls back in his lap again, curled up with her head resting on his chest.

“I remember everything, you know.  At the start, after being cast out, I didn’t know about the fire.  I didn’t know that after I died I would just… come back.  I ran, for a long time, until I couldn’t and they caught up to me and, and…”  She pauses and breaths deep.  “I remember the darkness, then flames...and then I opened my eyes again, and found myself surrounded by devastation.  And so it went on, me running, them chasing, then the burning.  I got tired of running, and I fought back, and I don’t know which was worse.”

“Ann-”

“I just wanted it to stop, so I found a coven, and I made a deal.  They warned me about the personal cost of the spells, but they needed my help just as much as I needed theirs, and we came to an agreement.  And every time a piece of this spell falls into place, something inside me changes.  It’s like I can feel my DNA resequencing itself, if that makes sense.”  

“I can’t imagine, but I think I understand,” Sam says quietly.  She nods against his chest.

“With only one step left, I’m on the brink of something I’m not sure I can come back from.  I feel more, I care more, and every time I burn now… god, it  _ hurts _ .”  She pulls back and looks up at him, her eyes wide.  “At first you were a means to this final end, just a backup plan to get me to this last step.  I didn’t expect you to begin to understand me, and I sure as hell didn’t expect you to help me after you figured me out.  Maybe my impending humanity is making me soft, or, or latching on to the closest human that could understand my grief.”  Her hands ball into fists, pressing against Sam’s chest.  “But you’ve gone and made me care about what happens to you, goddamnit.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen, Sam.  I don’t know what the consequences will be, how much damage this could do to you if you’re with me-”

“Hey,” Sam interrupts gently, wrapping her balled up hands in his.  “In case you haven’t heard, I’m a Winchester,” he chuckles, “I’m stubborn as hell, and I don’t leave my friends or family behind.  I’m going to see this through, and afterwards I’m going to take you out on your first, real human date.  Greasy food, a crappy movie, and awkward making out in the back of a car.”  She laughs.  It’s a hesitant, small thing, but it’s a laugh.

“You’ve got such a martyr complex, it’s not even funny,” she sighed, pulling her hands away to wrap them around his neck.  Sam smiles, leaning in to brush a gentle kiss against her chin.

“Have you even  _ met  _ my brother?” he chuckles.  She groans, shifting her legs to straddle his lap again.

“Can we  _ not  _ bring him up right now?  Such a moment killer.”

“Deal,” Sam agreed, leaning in to catch her lips.  She kisses back with fervor, pushing forward into his embrace and his hands run up her back instinctively.  Any hesitance is gone now, and Sam finally lets himself sink into the moment, finally allows himself to have this.

She nips at his lip, rolling her hips against the arousal his pants were too thin to disguise, and he grunts, tightening his grip on her.  She hums, leaning back and smiling at him as she guides his hands to the hem of her shirt, and then underneath it, encouraging his fingers to explore the soft skin of her stomach.

“Please, Sam,” she whispers.

“Ann-”

“Please.”  She rolls her hips again and Sam swallows his moan, his hands running upwards, taking her shirt with them till it falls to the bed behind her.  She makes short work of his shirt, leaning in to press their bare chests together as she kisses down his jaw.

Things become more urgent then, she shimmies out of her pants, and Sam has barely slid his pants out of the way before she's on him, sinking over him with a small whimper.  It's all slick heat and it happens so fast he hardly has time to brace himself before he slides inside her.

“Ann,” he gasps, holding her in place as he tries to breathe.  “Ann, I don't, I don't have-”

“I can't get pregnant,” she blurts, her hands scrambling for purchase across his chest and shoulders.  “Sam, please just-”  Her voice breaks off on a moan as Sam drops his head, kissing along her sternum and her chest, tentative little tastes as he releases her hips, letting her set the pace as his hands rest passively on her thighs.  She works her hips steadily, hands in his hair, small gasps and stuttered breaths filling the space between them.  He waits until they both need more, then holds her close to him and flips her gently onto her back, relishing the little moans and gasps she makes as he strokes deep inside her.  Her fingers run tug gently on his hair, tilting his face up to hers, those bright silver eyes catching hold of him.

He realizes, as they're both fast approaching their ends, that he had been afraid of this, too, of being close to someone again.  With Amelia, he'd never really made that connection, never crossed into the depth of what he'd felt for Jess, of what he was currently feeling for Ann.  He needs someone like her in his life, he’ll never be satisfied without it.  He needs someone who understands, someone who he can share the burdens of this life with.  Her fingers trail over his jaw, caressing away the tension she finds there, her thumb brushing along his lower lip.

“I know,” she gasps between breaths.  

He comes with her name on his lips, her back arching as she comes undone beneath him, her own orgasm sending tremors through them both as Sam gets the aftershocks.

He collapses next to her, and she turns, wrapping an arm around his chest and curling up against him, her warmth soothing as the sweat cools on his skin.

“We’re going to get through this,” Sam sighs, squeezing her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  He's not sure which one of them he's reassuring.

  
  


 

Dawn light wakes Sam some time later, and he blinks against the sun’s intrusion.  When he glances around, he notices the room is empty, his blanket tucked up over his hips to preserve his modesty.  He can hear the shower running in the next room and once he's recovered his pants, he slips out of bed and walks out to the bathroom door, knocking softly.

“Ann?” he calls.

“Come in,” she answers, and, not quite sure what he's going to find, Sam slowly pushes the door open.  She's in the shower, her silhouette just visible behind the shower curtain.  In spite of their intimate liaison the night before, he's still nervous being in here.

“I uh, I was wondering if you wanted to talk about last night,” he said, leaning on the counter.

“What about it?” she asked.  Sam set his jaw.

“Well, the fact that it happened for one thing,” he sighed.  She peeked her head around the curtain, smiling at him.

“It did,” she nodded.  “And it was pretty good.”  She ducked back behind the curtain, but didn't close it behind her.  It took Sam all of two seconds to take her up on her offer, dropping his pajamas and sliding into the shower.  He lost his breath at the sight of her, head tilted back and hands in her hair, the water trailing in soapy rivulets over her curves.  He stepped in and captured her lips, smiling when she giggled into the kiss.

“So, we’re okay?” he asks, wiping away a stray bit of water before it drips into her eye.

“No matter how horrible an idea this is, yes, we’re okay.  Hopefully neither of us will regret it.”  Her words are sobering, and Sam presses a kiss against her forehead, ignoring the taste of her shampoo.

“Never,” he breathed.  She hummed knowingly, rinsing the rest of the shampoo from her hair as he explores her body.  She grabs the body wash, trailing a soapy hand down his torso to wrap around his rapidly growing arousal.

“Of course you say that now,” she teased, working him slowly.  He grunts, bracing himself on the wall of the shower with his left arm, his right hand moving up to cup her jaw.

“I mean it,” he insists, bringing her in close to press his lips to her temple.  “I will never regret this.”  She releases him, moving to the side to allow the water to rinse the soap from his arousal.

“Show me,” she demands, her arms running around Sam’s neck.  He braces himself and slides his hands down to her thighs, lifting her and pressing her against the wall.  Supporting her weight with one arm, he slides the other between her legs, relishing in her gasp as he tests her readiness.  “ _ Sam-” _

“I got you,” he promises, sliding inside her with a groan.

It was probably one of the longest showers Sam’s ever taken, his arms and thighs sore from the effort.

But it was worth it.

 

After a quick breakfast with the coven, they're led back to their truck by Aislin and a couple others.  Ann is back in her military-esque gear, and the tense atmosphere between her and Aislin as they say goodbye is obvious.

“You two be careful.  They're circling now, you won't be able to avoid them much longer.”

“We will be,” Annika assured her with a small smile.  She slung her blade over her shoulder and nodded to Sam.  He waved at their host, who gave him a meaningful look before turning and disappearing into the trees.  The truck started just fine, and Sam turned them back towards the interstate.

They took a couple extra turns, backtracking a few more times, just to be sure they weren't being followed, but Sam couldn't help the uneasiness in his gut.  Annika was tense too, quiet for the most part, as they get closer and closer to North Carolina.  She doesn't reach for him for comfort, but he doesn't take offense, knowing she'll ask for comfort when she needs it.  

They drive through the final stretch, reaching the small town where her safehouse was located at about 8pm, locking themselves into the little cabin.

“Okay, here we are,” she sighed, dropping her bags and moving towards the basement.  The cabin is very bare of comforts, a couple cots, a heavy wooden table, and a stove, but it had everything a hunter would need.  Iron, salt, silver (bullets and knives), spellbooks, and such.  Sam follows her downstairs, a single lightbulb filling the area with a sickly yellow light.  There's an old looking metal box in a corner, about two feet long by two feet wide, with weird marks etched throughout the metalwork.  Ann is leaning over it muttering, and she pulls off her glove, using her small knife to slice into her right palm, spreading her blood over the lock until it clicks.

“What's so important that you'd need it locked in something like this?” Sam asked quietly.  She sighs, reaching in the box and pulling out a small black bag.

“You're not going to like it,” she said simply.  “Mostly because of the implication behind it.”  She turns to him, opening the bag and pulling out a glowing white phial, about the size of Sam’s hand.  She was right, he didn't like it.

“Is that… what I think it is?” 

“Grace from a fallen angel,” she said simply, dropping the phial back in the bag and pushing past him towards the stairs, her glove forgotten on the floor.

“So, the original reason you stuck around… did it have anything to do with Castiel?”  Sam knows his voice is cold, and the accusation tastes bitter on his tongue.

“I'm not going to lie, Sam.  When they found me on our way to Kansas I got a little concerned I might not make it out here.  I thought, maybe if I explained my situation to Castiel, he might be willing to help.”

“To help?  Do you know what you'd be asking him to do?!”  Sam physically takes a step back when she rounds on him, and he can almost feel the heat coming off of her.

“Yes, Sam, I do know.  And I didn't ask him, because after spending only a couple hours with you all in that bunker I realized…” she glances at the pouch in her hand.  “I realized Castiel would say yes.  And I couldn't ask that of him, I couldn't destroy another family.”  All the fight goes out of her then, her eyes closing tightly against her sudden weakness, and Sam reaches out, running his hand over her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, I get a little defensive when it comes to the people I care about,” Sam apologizes, and she opens her eyes, the tiniest smile on her face.

“I seem to remember you giving your brother a hell of a lot of grief over me,” she teases.  Sam blushes, running his hand over the back of his neck.

“My point still stands,” he shrugs, and she leans in to kiss him quickly before turning and climbing back upstairs.

“Okay, I need to do the binding on my own,” she explains, moving around the cabin and gathering things, piling them all in the center of the room near a large metal basin.  Her flurry of activity stops for a moment and she looks genuinely nervous now, fidgeting slightly.  “I've never had anyone in the room with me before, and it will get pretty hot.  Not to mention it's the last binding, which means I don't know how this is exactly going to go down...so if you need to step outside…”

“Don't worry about me,” Sam insisted, walking up to press a kiss to her temple.  “Remember I owe you that date.”  She smiled weakly, sobering quickly as Sam stepped away.  She dropped to sit in front of the basin and pulled her blade from its sheathe, setting it on the floor in front of her.  Sam moves to the furthest wall and sits, watching as she carefully picked up the bag with the phial in it, pulling it out and gently setting it in the basin.

She starts to murmur; some of it is in enochian, which Sam recognizes, but most of it is a language he doesn't know.  Her eyes are closed, but she picks up each ingredient with precision and adds it to the basin, the incantation changing slightly with each piece of the spell.  When the final ingredient has been added, she holds both of her hands over the basin, open palms facing down, and a fire springs to life, a bright white flash forcing Sam to cover his face.  The heat is intense, but not unbearable, and once the light has faded Sam lowers his hand to see her watching the flames closely, her eyes the bright golden color again.  Carefully, she lowers the sword into the fire, and it appears to absorb the white glow of the grace, adding a swirling line of silver up the length of the blade.

The fire goes out all at once, and Ann collapses, falling onto her side in a heap.  

“Ann?!”  Sam rushes over, gently rolling her onto her back.  She doesn't respond, but she's breathing at least, and Sam lifts her effortlessly onto one of the cots, brushing a hand over the heated skin of her brow.  “Hey, Annika, hey.”  Her chest continues rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but there's no other movement from her.  Sam moves back to the basin, picking up the blade gingerly, surprised to find it cool to the touch.  He sheathes it and sets it next to her, tucked under her arm, and her fingers wrap around it like a sleeping child’s around a teddy bear.  Unsure of what else to do, Sam sits next to her and waits, watching the hours tick by while she sleeps.  

When 1am rolls around, his phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see Charlie calling.  Sam pushes himself to his feet, stepping away from Ann towards one of the windows.

“Hey, Charlie, what's going on?” he asks quietly.

“Not much, just wanted to check in, see how the road trip was going.”

“Good, real good.  We’re uh, almost done,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Annika's sleeping form.

“Okay!  Dean and Cas went out on a job, they should be back later this morning, or tomorrow if they sleep it off.”

“Wait- Dean took Cas on a hunt?” Sam asked, pleasantly surprised.

“I mean, I kinda forced his hand?  But yeah.  My boy Cas, all grown up,” Charlie sighs.  Sam chuckles softly, glancing out the window again at the moonlit forest.

Movement catches his eye, something shifting in between the trees, which is when he realizes how silent the woods have gone.  Instinct kicks in, even as he catches sight of two more bodies coming through the woods.

“Charlie, I gotta go.  Get my address to Dean and get him here asap.”  Sam’s voice snaps urgently, as he closes all the curtains and moves towards his bag.

“Sam?!  What's going on?” she squeaks.

“They found us.”  He hangs up and slides his phone in his pocket, grabbing everything silver he could get his hands on.  He moves over to the table, tilting it on it's side and sliding it in front of him and Ann.  “Come on, I need your help,” Sam breathes, gently shaking her.  Her eyes flutter, but don't open, and Sam curses under his breath as he hears the footsteps approach the cabin.  He chambers a silver round in his gun and grits his teeth, bracing himself for a fight.  “Come and get me you sons of bitches.”


	9. 9. Fires Being Lit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!! Working on my new fic, which is why this poor story is getting updated so slow. :( I'm sorry.

_ Dean _

 

“Fucking hell,” Dean gasps, watching in mild horror as Cas’ back arches in pain, a small trickle of blood running down his skin.

“Unghhh,  _ Dean, _ ” Cas’ breathing is labored and thin as he balls his fists in the comforter, and Dean finally moves, scrambling for his phone.  He nearly drops it when it starts to ring in his hand, and conveniently, it's Charlie.  

“Charlie, listen, I need some help-”

“Wait, what?  Look I'm calling-”

“Whatever it is can wait!” Dean snapped.  “Cas collapsed, he's- he's- fuck, he's got these wounds on his back, and he told me to call you-”  He tries to swallow down his panic, watching Cas’ shoulders shake as he cries out again.  “Charlie!”

“Oh, dammit, okay.  Uh, look in Cas’ bag, he should have packed a bottle of something.”  Dean’s already moving as she starts talking, upending Cas’ things on the bed.  “It looks like honey, but it's not as thick.  Smells like tree sap.”  Dean finds a bottle that looks like what Charlie was describing, and when he pops the top open the smell confirms it.

“I got it.”

“Okay, take down this enochian chant, and repeat it while putting a few drops over each wing joint.”  Dean scrambles for the pen and paper on the side table.

“Over his  _ wing joint _ \- wait, you knew about this?!”

“Not the time!” she snaps, and he pushes away the questions he has long enough to copy down the spell she was reciting to him.

“Okay, hang on,” Dean dropped his phone on the comforter, leaning over Cas to drip the concoction over his wounds, repeating the spell that Charlie gave him.  The familiar light of angel grace starts to glow from the wounds, and Cas cries out, a strangled scream that ends on a groan, as the wounds slowly heal shut.  When they're finished, his back is red, raw like from a bad sunburn, and Cas is covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Dean?  Dean?!” Charlie’s electronic voice pierces the sudden silence.  Dean sighs heavily, picking his phone back up and setting the bottle on the side table.

“It worked, Charlie, thanks.”

“Don't thank me yet,” she muttered.  “I was just on the phone with Sam.  Dean, something's wrong.”

“ _ Fucking  _ fuck,” Dean snaps, just barely refraining from throwing his phone across the room.  “What the hell happened?!”

“I don't know!” Charlie squeaked.  “He just said to get you his address and for you to haul it over to him.  I tried to tell you-”

“Just text me the address,” Dean grunted, hanging up and dropping his phone on the bed, running his hands agitatedly through his hair.

Pissed doesn't even cover how Dean is feeling, but it's the closest word he's got.  He's pacing, itching to just start throwing punches but he manages to hold it in as he turns and catches sight of Cas.  The former angel is breathing evenly again, and he's sitting up, watching Dean carefully with remorse in his eyes.  Dean turns away.

He can't go, not with Cas like this, but he  _ has _ to get to Sammy.  It's like he's in the church all over again, stuck between his brother and his...his…

No, he can't do this, he can't make this choice again.  The guilt nearly killed him last time, and that was before he and Cas...before this shit had all changed.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice is quiet, and Dean rounds on him.

“Why didn't you tell me about this?!” he snapped, gesturing at him.  Cas shifts to the edge of the bed, the muscles in his arms bunching as he moves himself slowly.  To his credit, he’s not cowed by the accusation in Dean’s voice.

“I didn't want you to worry, Dean.”

“Didn't want me to worry?!  Cas, I worry about you every freakin’ day, that ship has kinda sailed!”

“I know I’m-”

“Have you forgotten what happens when we handle shit on our own?  When we lie to each other?  Nothing good.  We’re a family, Cas.  We handle shit like this  _ together _ !”

“Dean, this is my problem,” Cas sighs.  “I need to accept that responsibility for once.”

“Responsibility?” Dean scoffs.  “Cas everything that happened to you is my fault-”

“Stop!”  Dean pulls up short at Cas’ shout.  “Dean just stop.  Your guilt is underserved and I will not watch you blame yourself for this anymore.”

“Cas how is this not my fault?”

“I made the choice to help you, Dean.”  Cas rubs at his temple, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again.  “I made the  _ choice _ , and I chose you.  I chose to help Sam in that church, and I chose to keep this from you because I’m handling it.”  Cas has pushed himself to his feet; he's still a little pale, but his posture is strong, a determined look in his eyes.  

“Doesn't change the fact that if you hadn't met me, you wouldn't have been in those situations in the first place,” Dean quips stubbornly.  “You wouldn't be hurting right now because of me.”  Dean rubs at his forehead as he turns and resumes pacing, Sam's danger present in the back of his mind.  He doesn’t have time to sit here and argue with Cas about which one of them is to blame.

“Lately, I'm always hurting when I'm around you,” Cas whispers.  

Dean freezes.

His brain sputters to a stop, like it's physically walked into a wall it can't get around.

“You wanna run that by me again?” Dean breathes.  Cas can't mean what Dean thinks he means...

“These wounds...they're a side effect from what I did to save Sam,” Cas says, sighing heavily.  “When I tapped into my grace to shield Sam, most of it was used up by the spell.  But...some of it held on.  Naomi gave me the spell you just used, it helps strengthen it.”

“Oh, so we're trusting Naomi now?” Dean scoffs.

“Yes.  She is the reason Sam and I are still alive, and she hasn't bothered us since.”  Dean waves away Cas’ logic.

“Fine, whatever.  Strengthening your grace is a good thing, right?” Dean asks, still unable to turn and look at Cas.

“It's not...it's not that simple.”  Cas’ voice is tired, and Dean hears him settle onto the bed again.  “The spell is only temporary.  When my humanity tries to assert itself over my remaining grace, this is what happens.  And when I'm around you, that's all I want.  To just be...human.”  Dean’s chest aches for Cas, suddenly and sharply, the pain making him stop in his tracks.  

But Sammy’s in trouble and Dean can't think about this right now.

“Pack up,” Dean snaps, moving over to his bag, glancing guiltily at the mess he'd made of Cas’ things.  “We’re leaving.”

“Dean, can we-”

“Sammy’s in trouble,” he says over Cas’ words.  “Now hurry up before I leave you here.”  Dean leaves the hotel room, dropping his things in the Impala.  His chest still feels constricted, like there's not enough air to breathe, and he drops into the driver’s seat, resting his head on the steering wheel as he gasps for breath.

He's not angry at Cas, not really.  He's a million other fucking things right now, but what he's feeling for Cas isn't anger.  It's all his emotions know how to be, though; he doesn’t know how to let himself feel his worry, his anxiety, to feel the hurt he felt from Cas not trusting him.  He doesn't have time to deal with those things, so he gets angry, because at least when he's angry he can get shit done.  His phone pings with a text from Charlie and he and inputs the address into his GPS.

Cas walks out of the motel room a few minutes later, with his repacked bag and a fresh shirt on, and climbs into the car.  Without a word Dean guns it out of the parking lot and towards the interstate, eager to get moving towards Sam, trying not to think about the day’s drive between him and his brother.  Cas is on his phone next to him, probably texting Charlie, or maybe he's trying Sam.  Dean catches glimpses of Cas’ face in the light from his screen, his brow furrowed as he types.  

And now Dean starts to feel like an ass for yelling at him.

“Can your...problem be fixed?  Permanently?” Dean asks, hoping his voice sounds casual and not as tense as he’s feeling.  Cas puts his phone away and looks over at him, but Dean can’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, it can.”  Silence.

“Care to elaborate?” Dean asks.

“I have to choose,” Cas says quietly.  “Keeping my grace, and working on restoring it permanently, or… ripping it out.”  Dean can tell by the waiver in Cas’ voice: he’s already made his decision, but something is holding him back.  Cas shifts in the seat, making a small noise of discomfort.  Dean glances over at Cas as they pass under a streetlight, noticing how utterly exhausted he looks.  Dean wants to keep talking about this, but without knowing exactly what he wants to say he keeps silent.  Eventually, after some more shifting Cas falls asleep, curled up and leaning on Baby’s door.

_ I’m always hurting when I'm around you _ .  Cas’ words are echoing through his head again.  For the briefest moment, he’d thought Cas had meant…well, not the physical pain he had actually been talking about, but something more.  Dean almost felt disappointed, which was crazy, because if that was true, that would mean he  _ wanted  _ Cas to be feeling... _ things _ about him.  

And if he was being completely honest with himself, it was because lately he’d been feeling all sorts of weird shit when it came to Cas, and he was desperate to know it wasn’t one sided, that he wasn’t crazy.  That Cas’ smiles, the way he leaned into Dean’s touches, the way he seems to understand what Dean is thinking and feeling before Dean himself does...he needs to know he wasn’t making it all up in his head.

The first time Dean had felt a  _ change _ was in purgatory, when against all survival instinct he desperately searched for Cas, and had been unable to leave without him.  The way he'd gone crazy with guilt after Cas was left behind-  _ stayed _ behind- and his relief when Cas was back…there was no way it wouldn't change their friendship.  So yeah, the change had just kind of happened over time, a gradual shift between them that pulled them closer the longer Cas was on earth.  Dean couldn’t explain any of it, but it had always been there.  Easily ignored before simply because Cas was an angel, and incapable of that kind of emotional connection, the kind that came with the finality of human life.  Dean had known Cas’ friendship with them was simply a blip on his long timeline, but now that timeline is the same length as Dean’s, and he doesn't really know what to do with that.  

It was better he ignored it, because Dean Winchester could never feel this way about  _ anyone _ .

Yet...right now, even knowing Sammy was in trouble and he was racing the clock to save him, Dean’s thoughts are on Cas, on their...on  _ them. _  And if that didn’t speak volumes for the words Dean was avoiding saying even to himself, he didn’t know what else would.

 

After about 12 hours, Dean is forced to pull over to top up the gas tank.  The afternoon sky is a pale blue, and it’s warm enough Dean feels the slight stickiness of sweat clinging to his skin.  He’s angrily watching the numbers tick up on the gas pump that the jackass at the fill station hasn’t bothered updating; this has to be the longest time it’s taken him to get a tank of gas ever.

“Dean, we stopped?” Cas asks as he climbs out of the car to stretch, looking like the incident with the gaping wounds on his back hadn’t happened at all.

“Just a quick refuel,” Dean explains.  Cas nods, taking a few steps towards the convenience store.

“I’m going to get something to eat, do you want anything?”

“We don’t have time,” Dean snaps.  Cas stops and turns to face him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Dean, we have to eat.”

“No, we have to get to Sam,” Dean spits, glaring harder at the gas pump.  “It’s already been too long.  We’re no good to Sam if we're too late.”

“You’re no good to Sam exhausted and hungry, either,” Cas shot back.

“You’re one to talk, you’ve been dead to the world for the last 12 hours,” Dean grouses.  Cas rolls his eyes, turning back for the store, walking inside without looking back.  “Dammit, Cas,” Dean groaned.  The gas pump  _ finally  _ clicked to a stop, and Dean hung the nozzle up, climbing back in the driver’s seat just as Cas walks back out of the store with a plastic bag in hand.  Instead of climbing in the passenger side of the car, Cas walks around to the driver’s side, looking down at Dean through the open window.

“Move over, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” Dean scoffs, staring up at Cas like he’s just grown three heads.  Did he just suggest-

“You need to eat and rest,” Cas says like it’s no big deal.  “I’ll drive for a while.”

“No, no way,” Dean snaps out of reflex.  “We don't have time for this.”  Cas simply raised an eyebrow at him and refused to move.  Cursing, and too worried about Sam to argue, Dean scooted across the seat to the passenger side, glaring at Cas as he climbed in the car.  Cas handed Dean the bag after removing a pre-made lunch meat sandwich for himself.  

“Eat, Dean,” Cas insists.  Dean looks down in the bag, poking through the contents grudgingly.  Cas had bought him a sandwich, some jerky, and chips, with a couple bottles of water and soda to share between them.  Dean pulls the other sandwich out, watching as Cas unwraps his and sets it in his lap before starting the car.  Cas pulls them back on the road, both of them silent as they’re preoccupied with food.  Dean has to admit, now that he’s eating, he was actually pretty hungry.  Cas is handling the driving pretty well, too, smoothly making his way around the slower cars and trucks.  Dean finishes his sandwich and reaches back to put the remaining food in the backseat.

“I’m going to catch a couple hours,” Dean grunts, settling in to get comfortable.  “Then we’re switching back.”  Cas doesn’t say anything, and Dean closes his eyes, waiting for Baby’s comforting rumble to ease him to sleep.

Except it isn’t working.

He’s restless, fidgeting in the seat as his brain worries about Sam.  What had happened to him?  Would Dean get there in time to do anything?  Was he even still alive at this point?  And then there was Cas.  Cas who had just collapsed in a bleeding mess, who had apparently done it before and hadn’t bothered to tell Dean.  He slips into a kind of doze, not really sleeping, but not really awake either, and that’s when he hears it.  He swears he’s dreaming at this point, because it doesn’t make sense that Cas would be doing it.  Sure, Dean had mentioned  _ Hey Jude _ to him before, how his mom used to sing it to him, and yeah, maybe he’d grow pensive and quiet when it came on the radio, but for Cas to hum it to him?  To try and sooth him into sleep?  That was fucking ridiculous...

 

Dean wakes up, and enough time has passed that it’s dark outside.

“We’re almost there,” Cas says when he realizes Dean’s awake.  “Your phone says we’re only a few miles away.”

“Pull over,” Dean sighs, and Cas does as soon as he’s able.  Dean climbs out of the car and stretches, holding out his hand for Cas to give him the keys.  When Cas does, Dean turns for the trunk, getting his weapon bag sorted out.

“What’s the plan?” Cas asks.  Dean sighs, checking his magazine of silver bullets.  With whatever trouble Sam was in now an immediate problem, his worry for the fallen angel comes back in force.

“Cas, I don’t know what we’re walking into here,” he starts, painfully aware of how awful his words are going to sound, “and I can’t have you with me if you’re not at 100%.”  Cas stiffens beside him, apparently surprised that Dean is trying to leave him behind.

“Dean, I can help, my grace is strong enough for the time being-” 

“You were comatose a few hours ago,” Dean quips, closing the trunk and tossing the bag in the backseat.

“I've recovered, Dean.  I can help-”

“No, Cas.”  Dean shakes his head.  “You’re benched until you figure this out.  I’m sorry, but if I have to handcuff you to the car with enochian handcuffs, I will.”  

“I’m not helpless,” Cas bristles.

“I’m not saying that,” Dean insists. 

“Then why leave me behind?  Like you said you don't know what we’re going to find.”  Dean opens his mouth, about to snap at him in anger, but he can’t.  No, this time, he really needs Cas to understand why.

“Because I can’t make that decision again.”  Dean swallows hard, leaning heavily on Baby.  “I can’t choose between you and Sam.  And if you're there, I might have to.”  Cas’ shoulders relax, his posture softening at Dean’s change in tone.

“Sam is your brother, Dean-” Cas starts.

“So what, that makes you worthless?” Dean scoffs.

“No, it makes me want to help!” Cas snaps back at him.  “Please, Sam is my family, too.”  Dean takes a deep breath, his brain trying to assemble the words in his head.  

“I need Sam to be okay, but I need you to be too, Cas,” he swallows down his pride, letting the weakness out just for a moment.  “I can't…I can't…” his voice shakes and he falls silent.

“You can't protect us from everything, Dean,” Cas says quietly, brushing a hand over his shoulder gently.  “I'll hang back, I'll be careful, but I'm going with you.”  Dean huffs a small laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face.  “Because I can't lose you, either.”  Dean’s smile fades, and he looks up at Cas to find him studying Dean closely, like he's searching for something.

Fine.  Cas is ready to fight for this, and who is Dean to say no to help when it's offered?  

“Alright,” Dean sighed.  “Just stay close,” he insists.  Cas nods, his breath coming out in a sigh of relief, and they climb back into the car to make their final approach to Charlie’s coordinates.

Or what was left of it.

Someone had taken a torch to what looked like a small cabin, the ashes still warm in some places, but most of it a charred shell.  As he and Cas poke around in what's left, the only small comfort Dean takes is that there are no bones amongst the rubble.  Dean gets Charlie on the phone as he and Cas search the grounds around the cabin for any sign of where Sam went.

“Charlie, we’re here, but there’s nothing left,” Dean sighs once she answers.

“I figured, and I’m working on it,” she says, and Dean can hear her typing away at her keyboard in the background.  “They turned Sam’s phone off, but I installed a program on all your phones to turn themselves back on when they’ve been off for 12 hours.  Sort of like a failsafe,” she explains.  Dean can’t find it in him to be angry about the invasion of privacy.

“Okay, so tell me you have his location.”

“That’s the thing,” Charlie mumbles remorsefully.  “I don’t have his exact location, just a general area.  Kevin and I did some digging, and found a series of caves around there, meaning they’re probably underground, which is messing with the signal.”  Caves weren't good.  Caves meant a difficult approach, and an even more difficult exit.

“Okay, Charlie, you did good,” he breathed, waving at Cas.  “Just send me the coordinates.”

“Be careful Dean, okay?” she worries.  “Call me when you've got Sam.”

“I will,” he promised, hanging up the phone.  He turned to call Cas over and jumped when he realized Cas was right behind him.  “Got a location for Sam,” Dean grunted, stepping away quickly.  Cas nodded, walking around the car and climbing back in the Impala.  Dean takes one last look at the charred wood and sets his jaw.

_ Coming, Sammy. _

 

The cave system Charlie had sent information about thankfully wasn't too elaborate, and by the time he and Cas have parked a safe distance away, they have an entry and exit game plan.  Dean doesn't know what manner of monster they're going to find down there, so he loads both him and Cas up with silver rounds, silver knives, and machetes.  He doesn't like that Cas is coming with him, but Cas is showing no outward signs of his grace being an issue, and from the dangerous look on his face when Dean went to tell him to stay behind, Cas would go whether or not Dean gave him permission.  

“Okay, priority is Sam.  We can deal with whatever is in there once he's safe,” Dean repeats for the tenth time.  Cas chambers a silver round in the gun Dean gave him, and he nods as he holsters it.  The adrenaline is starting to kick in, heightening the years of well honed hunter instincts Dean's developed.  

They start for the cave, slowly making their way from cover to cover.  At the mouth of the cave, there's someone on lookout, a guy about Dean’s size, and he's thankfully looking off in the opposite direction of their approach.  He meets Cas’ gaze and when Cas mouths  _ wolf _ to Dean he pulls his silver knife, covering the guy’s mouth and stabbing him in the heart.  There's a muffled groan, and the hiss from where the silver contacted his skin, then he slumps to the ground.  For each lookout they come across, it's the same thing, and while he knows better than to count on luck, Dean will take it while they have it.

The caves have been lit by battery powered lamps, and as they near the center, the sounds of a small generator running explains the brighter spotlights lighting the main room.  They tuck themselves into a dark alcove, able to peek out from behind a rock without being seen.  Dean makes a quick count of about twenty visible werewolves, but he knows that doesn't mean there aren't more.  Cas crouches behind him, resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder to steady himself as he leans close.  Dean turns his head to look at Cas, who points across the room and to the right.

_ Sam _ .

His brother is locked in a sort of cage, staring daggers at one of the wolves eating God knows what at a nearby table, the corner of it just barely within sight of the tunnel entrance Dean was crouched in.  The leader is a bit smaller than the others, but they're all treating him with a sort of reverence.

_ Guess we know who’s in charge. _  Dean catches Cas’ eye before he jerks his head at the alpha wolf, and Cas nods.  Dean returns his focus to his brother, and notices he's taken a protective stance between the door and Annika.  She's curled up, sitting with her legs tucked close to herself, trying not to touch the metal surrounding them.  Dean realizes it must be iron, and upon closer inspection she's not looking all that great.  Sam is marked up with cuts and bruises and they're both filthy, and since Annika’s glove is missing the iron probably hurts.  The alpha stands up, and Dean catches sight of Annika’s blade hooked to his belt.

“Sure you guys weren't hungry?” he sneers, walking towards the cage.

“Screw you,” Sam snaps at him.  

“Stuff it, Winchester.  The only reason you're alive is to keep her under control.”

“And because you're scared of my brother,” Sam smirks.  Dean smiles.  “You can't kill her,” Sam continues, “so what's the point?  Everything you've tried hasn't worked for  _ centuries _ -”

“Well, since the demons got locked up, which, thanks, by the way,” the alpha wolf pauses to bow to Sam, “it's been a free for all, and I've had my crew looking for one thing in particular.”  His phone rings, and he picks up, walking off down a side tunnel.  Dean turns to the cage and sees Ann stand slowly, Sam turning to face her.  They're whispering, but Dean can't hear what they're saying.  Though he definitely sees the way Sam’s arm pulls her in by her waist, much too intimate for just friends.  Sam shakes his head at something she says, and she reaches up to place a hand on his cheek.  His brother hugs her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  The majority of the wolves in the room move towards the tunnel their leader went down and Dean tenses, playing scenarios out in his head for how many of the remaining wolves he could take down before they got to Sam.

“Dean,” Cas breathes against Dean’s ear, sending goosebumps down his arms, “they're looking for the Colt.”  A pleased laugh comes from the direction of the alpha, and Dean’s stomach sinks.

“Sounds like they found it,” he whispers back.

_ The Colt. _  After losing it when they tried to take out Lucifer, he and Sam had searched for it, with no luck.  It made sense that it had wound up with a demon somewhere, probably one of Crowley’s stashes if Dean was honest with himself.  They needed to get to Sam somehow and get out of here, but with the Colt on its way… that could come in handy.  

The alpha starts barking orders, and only three of the wolves remain in the main room, the rest of their footsteps and excited talk disappearing down the tunnels.  The wolves settle in with a deck of cards at the table, and Dean relaxes slightly.  As long as they're quiet, three of them isn't as much of a problem.

“Be ready,” he breathes to Cas, and he feels Cas tense behind him, ready to follow Dean’s lead.  Dean breaks cover just enough to catch Sam’s attention, and he winks roguishly at his brother's surprised stare.  Sam nudges Ann and nods towards Dean, her surprise easily hidden by a look of urgency.  Dean adjusts his grip on his silver knife, turning to nod at Cas, and when he waves at Sam, Sam rattles the bars on his cage.

“Sit down and shut up,” one of the wolves snaps.

“Why should I?  You're just going to kill me anyway!” Sam snaps back.  “It's already been a day, why drag this out?!”  The wolf facing Dean is closest to the cage, so with some grumbling he stands and walks over to the bars, a knife in hand.

Dean moves quickly, Cas following behind, the two of them sneaking up behind the two at the table, Cas mirroring Dean’s moves and covering the wolves mouths as they sank their silver blades into their hearts.  Dean turns to jump the other, only to find Sam has him in a strangle hold against the bars.  Dean surges forward and sinks the knife into the wolf’s chest, and Sam releases the body, Dean kicking it to the side and out of the way.

“Am I glad to see you,” Sam laughs.

“Hate to say I told you so-” Dean starts to brag but stops at a noise from further down in the caves.  “Right, I'll do that later.  Let's get you out, huh?”  The door is locked by a padlock and chain, and Dean pulls out his lockpick.

“They took everything off me,” Sam explained, “not to mention picking the lock with thirty plus werewolves outside the door wouldn't have accomplished much.”

“And I'm totally useless in here,” Ann sighed.  As Dean works on the lock, he's vaguely aware of Cas doing something behind him. 

“Cas, what are you…” Sam starts, sounding confused.

“It might buy us a few seconds of confusion, if someone follows us,” Cas explained, and when the lock popped open Dean turned to look over his shoulder.  

Cas had propped the three dead wolves back up at their table, and at first glance they just seemed to be sitting there playing cards.

“Nice, good job, Cas,” Dean chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as Cas walked over to join them.  Cas smiled at him, his eyes meeting Dean’s before moving away to look at Annika.  

“Ann, come on, you're not strong enough,” Sam said quietly.  She shook her head, her eyes closed and her breathing deep.

“I can't leave without it,” she said.

“Tell me we’re not going after that blade,” Dean groaned.  “We need to  _ go _ -”

“I can't leave without it, she repeats with force.  Ann’s voice was quiet, but deadly serious, and Dean physically took a step back.  “Just stay behind me,” she said, and when her eyes opened they were a bright gold.  She started off down the tunnel, Dean handing Sam an extra gun loaded with silver bullets and a silver knife.

“Your girlfriend has control issues,” Dean muttered.

“Dean...I've seen some crazy shit the past couple days.  I'd listen to her,” Sam shrugged.  She took off down the hallway, the rest of them following behind.

Dean needn't have worried.

Ann grabbed hold of the first wolf they came to, setting him ablaze instantly and walking him in front of her like a shield.  Every wolf he touched on their way down the hall caught fire as well, until Dean could hear them all running  _ away  _ from them.

They burst from the cave, the remaining wolves not trying to put fires out forming a semi-circle around them, and Ann finally let their shield crumple to the floor, the body dissolving into ashes when it hit the ground.

“Dean!” Cas gasps, grabbing hold of his arm.  He looks up at the alpha to find himself staring down the barrel of the Colt.

Everything stops for a moment, both groups of them silent, Cas, Sam, and Dean with guns raised, the wolves with claws out.

“Come on, Leo,” Annika shouts.  “Let's just end this.”

“Funny you should say that now that I have this,” the alpha sneers, gesturing with the gun.

“There's no guarantee that gun will work,” she points out, taking a couple steps forward, away from them.  Sam moves to follow but Dean grabs him, holding him back.

“Dean, I'm not just gonna-”

“Yes you are,” Dean hissed in a whisper, shoving hard on Sam’s chest to keep him where he was.  “In case you haven't noticed, that's the Colt.  And even if it doesn't work on her, it'll sure as hell work on us.”

“Why?  All these centuries of you hunting me down and failing to stop me?  Why keep chasing me?”

“You're serious,” the alpha laughs, a cold bitter thing.  “Maybe after a millennia you've forgotten, but I haven't.  I never will.”

“You hunted me on mother’s orders, but she was gone-”

“You think I’m still doing this for  _ her _ ?!”  There's cold fury in his voice now.  “She's dead, thanks to your buddies.  No, I'm doing this for  _ them _ .  My mate, and my- my babes.  Four years, two years, and six months old.  You  _ killed  _ them.”  Annika’s shoulders sag somewhat under the accusation, but when she talks her voice is full of pity, not remorse.

“I don’t deny that my being there resulted in their deaths, but it wasn’t me who killed them.  It was the iron swords you shoved in my chest.  It was the iron rods you beat me with.  I burned that day, but not by my choosing.”  Several of the wolves in the circle exchange wary looks, shifting in their stances.

“You  _ liar _ !!  The entire village was destroyed-”

“Because when I get that close to true death,” she explains calmly while the wolf sputters above her, “my body will burn, the fire leaves me and destroys everything around me, and I wake up in a new body.”

“You  _ knew _ -”

“No, I didn't.  That was the first time I burned, Leo.  I wanted...I wanted it to be  _ over _ , and I thought you had done the job.  Then I woke, and I saw the devastation...and I ran.  It was your choice to chase.”

The sound that rips out of Leo’s throat is terrifying, and he's springing forward towards her with his claws and teeth out, the Colt forgotten, but before anyone else can do anything Annika has kicked out and dropped him on his stomach, knocking the Colt from his hand and snatching her blade from his belt.  She's got the blade pressed to his back, directly behind his heart, and a sad look on her face.

“Do it!” Leo shouts at her.  There's a murmur from the wolves around them, the entire atmosphere thick with tension.  Annika sighs, pulling her blade back and shaking her head.

“I want this to be over, Leo, enough years have been wasted on this.  Take your pack, go build them a new life.”  There’s some murmurs of agreement from the wolves, and most of them turn and walk away, leaving Leo on the ground.  Dean figures there’ll be a shift in leadership at this point.  Annika turns from him and starts to walk back towards Sam, but with a snarl, Leo jumps up to make one last attempt on Annika.

A gun goes off, and it takes Dean a moment to realize it didn’t come from him or Sam.  He looks to his right to see Cas standing there, gun in front of him, staring at the now limp form of Leo on the ground.  One shot, and Cas got him perfectly in the heart.  Sam surges forward to wrap Annika up in a hug, and Dean turns away when their lips meet, walking over to where Cas was still holding out his gun, mild surprise on his face.

“Cas, that was...awesome,” Dean huffs a laugh.  

“I...thank you,” Cas sounds stunned, lowering his gun slowly, and Dean huffs a small laugh, squeezing his shoulder tightly.  Cas tucks his gun away, his whole body relaxing as he turns to give Dean a small smile.  “We did it,” he announces, raising his hand to rest on Dean’s shoulder.

“We sure as hell did,” Dean agrees.  The adrenaline is giving way to endorphins, and Dean’s starting to get a little buzz from their success.  Cas, as it turns out, was one hell of a hunter.  “Look, Cas...I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Dean admits, his hand dropping self consciously from Cas’ shoulder.  “You did good,” he adds lamely.  Cas’ eyes meet his, and Dean feels an electric current run through him.  Something is...different, and whatever that something is has Dean’s heart drumming against his ribs.  Cas’ cheeks are slightly flushed, his smile starting to fade as he moves to reach for Dean, and Dean moves closer towards him.

“Dean, I-” 

“Let’s get going,” Sam calls to them, his PDA apparently over with.  “We probably shouldn’t wait for them to decide to come back for us.”  Cas nods, breaking his gaze away from Dean and quickly walking past him, waving for Sam to follow him.

“Of course,” Cas says casually, while Dean is frozen in place having an existential crisis.  Had he...what he was  _ feeling  _ right now didn't make any sense, he couldn't have…

Sam walks up next to Dean, nudging him with something, and Dean tears his eyes away from Cas’ back to look down.

_ The Colt. _

Dean takes it from Sam slowly, relishing the feel of it in his hands again.  He can hear his father’s voice still, clear as day, talking about the legend of Samuel Colt, and his special gun.  He can feel it going off, the night he killed Azazel, the kick of the gun and the flash when he watched the demon that destroyed his life be destroyed himself.  It's enough of a distraction to break him out of his funk, and he blinks a few times, tucking the gun in his pocket before taking a deep breath.

“I’m fucking starving,” he grunts, and Sam claps him hard on the back, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees.

 

After they find Sam and Annika's things stashed in one of the remaining cars parked outside the cave, they all pile into the Impala, Sam and Dean up front, Cas and Annika in the back.  Dean takes them through a drive through, buying enough food to feed an army, and then finds the closest motel to crash in.  The place is practically empty, so Dean splurges and gets them two rooms.  After what he’s seen, Sam and Annika will probably appreciate the space.  

Dean pretends not to notice the careful way Cas is avoiding his eyes, or basically avoiding him altogether.  

Sam tells Dean about the trip over, and about how they got captured.  Apparently, after performing part of her spell, she’d passed out, and left Sam on his own to defend against the wolves coming for them.  Sam said he managed to take down five before numbers overwhelmed him and they were rounded up.  

“They must have burned the cabin behind us,” Sam reasons around a bite of a cheeseburger.  “Not sure why, maybe just so she couldn’t use anything inside it anymore.  Anyway, they’ve knocked me out cold at this point, and when I come to they’ve dragged us into the caves, where they’d kinda set up a base camp.  Annika is still out, and I just wait and watch as they lock us up.  Ann finally comes to and that’s when I realize they’ve built the cage out of iron…”  Sam trails off and Annika nudges his elbow gently.  Sam smiles at her and continues the story.  “Anyway, this guy Leo shows up, all bluster and bragging, and I can tell they have a history so I basically stay out of their back and forth.  I could tell he was stalling, and now with the Colt here I guess we know why.  And then you showed up.”  Sam finishes.

“So did you finish your spell?” Dean asks Annika.  “I mean, you’re obviously still all phoenix-y…”

“I’m finished with the bindings,” she says, munching on a french fry.  “There’s one more step that hopefully Sam can help me with once I've gotten my strength back, but then yeah, I’m done.”  Sam’s quick glance at her tells Dean he's not sure what that last step is.

“I am glad you're safe, Sam,” Cas says formally, standing from the table, “I am quite exhausted, I believe I'm going to bed.”  He turns and makes an exit from the room awkwardly, and Sam catches Dean’s eye.

“Is everything alright with him?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean sighed heavily, glancing at the closed door Cas had just walked through.  “It's not.”  He finished the rest of his food and stands to leave.  “It's too much to explain right now, and I'm too tired to try.  I’ll tell you when we get home, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam says, obviously confused.  Dean turns his back on his brother and leaves the room, letting himself into the room next door.  Dean can hear the shower running as he does up the latches on the door, taking off his shoes and his overshirt.  He’s halfway to the bathroom door, about to ask Cas if he was okay, before he stops himself.

It feels like the right thing to do, to make sure Cas is okay, that it's not his grace bothering him again.  That's not what stops him.  What stops him is the nagging feeling that he was missing something, that there was some point to everything he just wasn't grasping.  He turns away from the bathroom and drops onto his bed, listening as the water in the shower stops, followed by the sound of Cas brushing his teeth.  He still has trouble, sometimes, remembering that Cas is human now.  That he's here with Dean, and he's not just going to “angel out” on him.  He forgets that he gets to have Cas around, on hunts, in the bunker… as a more permanent fixture in his life.  

Dean’s just realizing how much he's come to want that.  To have the companionship of someone outside of Sam.  Someone he doesn't have to worry about being a big brother around, someone he doesn't have to protect from this life as much as he does Kevin and Charlie.  Castiel is a friend, his best friend.  More than an ally, more than…

Well...Cas has always just been... _ more _ .

Cas walks out of the bathroom, dressed for bed, and Dean watches him carefully as he walks across the room.

“Cas?”  He's not even sure what he's planning on asking, but the name tumbles from him anyway.  Cas puts his clothes away, turning down the covers and climbing into his bed.

“Yes, Dean?”  He finally looks up at Dean, ready to answer whatever it is Dean wants to know, what Dean’s still trying to figure out.  A few seconds go by, and Cas just continues to evenly meet Dean’s gaze.   _ Say something _ , he berates himself.  It's like his brain has forgotten how to make his mouth work, because he can't get his lips to form around words.  He's looking at Cas and he  _ wants  _ something he can't identify, he can't express and it's driving him crazy that he's so helpless against his own mind.  Cas’ head tilts in concern.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.  

“Yeah, I uh...your grace?”

“Yes, I'm okay for the time being.”  Cas’ brow furrows, but before he can say anything else Dean suddenly turns away, grabbing his things and escaping to the bathroom.

He turns the shower to hot and strips, climbing under the stream and resting his head against the tiled wall.  He knocks his skull against it a couple times, like he's trying to physically knock loose whatever it is that's keeping him from processing what it is he’s been trying to say.

_ What do I want?! _

He opens his eyes and see’s Cas’ shampoo sitting on the edge of the tub, right next to his.

The epiphany comes so fast it nearly knocks the wind out of him.  It was so simple, really.

He wants Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter, ngl. ;)


	10. 10. Born Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo another update of my little pet project. And a scene I've had in my head since the conception of this story.

_ Sam _

 

Sam watched Dean leave the room, half tempted to go after him.

“Guess we missed something while we were gone,” Ann shrugged, turning back to the table to finish her food.  

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said distractedly.  Why did it seem like Cas was hiding something, when it also seemed like Dean already knew?  His brother wasn't one for subtlety, usually he'd have no problem telling Sam what was going on with Cas.  If Dean felt it was Cas’ secret to tell, then it had to be serious...

“Hey, you still with me?” Ann teased, cleaning the remainder of the trash off the table.  Sam took a deep breath, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry.  Just need some sleep.”  He'd been knocked unconscious after taking down five of the wolves that had rushed the cabin, but that didn't really count as sleep.  And he hadn't exactly been able to relax in the small cage they'd been locked in; between worry about Ann and the adrenaline he'd probably grabbed about two or three hours of sleep total since Ann had finished her spell yesterday.  Almost as if she read Sam’s mind, Ann walked up to where he was sitting, setting the blade on the table in front of him.

“It's finished,” she said quietly, sitting sideways in his lap and leaning on his shoulder.  He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“What does that mean, exactly?” he asked.  When she didn't answer, his stomach immediately sank.  “Ann, what aren't you telling me?” he prodded gently.  Her sigh was warm against his neck, and she chased it with a soft kiss.

“Please, Sam, not tonight,” she pleaded, curling into his embrace.  “Let’s just go to sleep, okay?”  Sam's uneasy, not used to her being this timid, but he’s too exhausted to fight her on it tonight.  He carefully tightens his hold on her, lifting her and walking over to the bed to set her down.  He turns off the lights and undresses down to his boxers, climbing into bed with her.  She curls up in a ball, and he wraps himself around her from behind, burying his face in her hair, his hand sliding around her middle to tug her close.

“So your brother knows about us,” she points out.  

“Yeah, I wasn't exactly subtle,” Sam blushes, shrugging his shoulder.  “He didn't seem too put out by it.”

“For now.  He's...distracted,” she adds.  Her fingers start to draw patterns over the back of Sam’s hand.  She’s nervous, Sam can tell, about whatever it is that's coming up.  Her normal bluster and confidence is gone, and either she's stopped trying in front of him or she's too worried to keep it up.  He presses a series of gentle kisses over her shoulders until she relaxes in his arms.

“Whatever happens, I'll be right here,” Sam promises, his breath raising goosebumps on her skin.

“Why are you so stubbornly attached to me?” she huffed in a small laugh.  

“I like you,” Sam shrugs, smiling when she giggles.

“You like me?  But, do you, like,  _ like  _ me, like me?  Or like, just like me, like, you know?”  

“Shut up,” Sam laughs, nipping lightly at her neck with his lips as she laughs at her own joke.  When her giggles subside, she laces her fingers through Sam’s where they rest against her stomach.

“I like you, too, Sam.”  His heart thumps hard against his ribs, so hard he's pretty sure she can feel it.  He was sure Jess had been his one soul mate, that he'd never find someone like her again.  Now, with Ann here in his arms, so strong yet allowing herself to be weak, allowing him to really see her, he knows he's been given a second chance.  Not many people get to find the love of their lives twice, but that's what Sam is feeling, and it makes him hold her that much closer, to kiss her neck until she turns her head and he can capture her lips in a deep kiss until he has to stop to breathe.

“I want you to stay,” Sam says quickly, before he can lose his nerve. 

“I'm not going anywhere tonight,” she hums, tugging the blanket tighter around them.  Sam drops his head and traces the line of her shoulder with his lips.

“Once the spell is done,” he clarifies.  “I want you to stay with me, in the bunker.”  He feels her tense in his arms, her eyes searching his face closely.

“Isn't it moving a little fast, asking me to come live with you?” she breathes a nervous laugh.  She's never had a home, Sam wasn't surprised she was being cautious about this.

“I don't care,” Sam sighs.  “You can have your own room, if it helps.  I just...I don't want to give you up.”  She rolls back onto her side and doesn't say anything, but she does relax deeper into his arms, and Sam will take that for now.

 

 

The next morning, Dean invites Sam along to get breakfast, leaving Cas and Ann back at the motel.  Sam figures Dean just wanted an excuse to talk, so he stays quiet, letting Dean take his time to break the silence.

“So, you and Ann, you guys a thing now?” he finally asks when they're waiting in the drive thru of McDonald’s.

“I mean, I guess we are,” Sam sighs.

“The hell does that mean?” Dean scoffs. 

“I don't know,” Sam shrugs.  “I mean, I want this more than I've wanted anything in a long time, but I just get this feeling like she's waiting for something.”

“Maybe for you to suck it up and ask her properly?” Dean chuckled, leaning out the window to make their order.  

“I have, Dean,” Sam sighed once Dean had pulled forward.  Between the two of them they get the money for the food together.  “Maybe she's just waiting for the spell to finish,” he shrugged.  Dean pulls up to the window and pays for their food, handing the bags of greasy breakfast to Sam.  

“Well, as long as you're going into this eyes open, you've got my blessing,” Dean says, pulling away from the restaurant.

“Gee, thanks,” Sam scoffed.  Sam decides to push back at Dean a little.  “So, what's going on with Cas?” he asks.

“Hm?  What?” Dean asks quickly.  Sam blinks and raises his eyebrows at Dean.

“Cas, he was acting weird last night?” Sam tries again.  Dean’s jaw sets and he shifts in his seat.

“Oh, right.  It's uh, it's his grace, it's fighting against his human soul.”  Dean says it quickly, and it takes Sam a moment to absorb what his brother is saying.

“Wait, he still has grace?!” Sam gasps.  “Dean, this is great!  That means there's a chance to help fix this!”  

“Fix it?  Sam, Cas isn't broken,” Dean snaps.  Sam is taken aback by the anger in Dean’s sudden outburst.

“That's not what I meant-”

“It hurts him, you know.  He's suffering because of this, because of us.”  Dean’s voice is thick, and squashes Sam’s excitement completely.

“I- Dean, I didn't mean-”

“Just… I just want him to be okay, to be happy.  He deserves that much,” Dean sighs.  As soon as the words leave him, Dean’s cheeks flush, and he snaps his jaw shut, not saying another word the rest of the way back to the motel.   _ So much for talking. _

Sam is beyond confused.  Finding out Cas still had some grace left meant they could restore it, could help him get back to normal.  Dean had seemed offended, almost angry at the suggestion, and Sam had no idea where that was coming from.  He figured Dean would be on board with helping restore Castiel back into his grace.  Unless…

Unless there was something else he wasn't telling Sam, something that happened between his brother and Cas in the few days Sam had been gone.

When they arrive back at the hotel for breakfast, Cas and Ann have all their things, including Sam and Dean’s things, packed and waiting by the door.  Sam wants to ask Cas about his grace, but with a glare Dean stops him, and Sam decides to drop it for now.  Cas is a little more relaxed that morning, it seems the uneasiness from last night has transferred into Dean, who's almost sulking in his chair.  Ann and Cas talk about nothing in particular, and Sam joins their conversation, ignoring his brother for the time being.

For the first leg of the trip home, Sam squeezes in the backseat with Ann, resting on her lap with his legs folded as he attempts to catch up on his sleep.  Her fingers twirl patterns into his hair gently, and he relaxes into the touches.  He's still worried about the spell, about her leaving, about Cas and his brother and retaliation from any other wolf packs.

But here, in this car, with this girl, Led Zepplin playing while his brother attempts to educate Cas on his list of favorite songs...here Sam can relax for a bit.  Because right here it feels like home.

The rest of the trip back to the bunker passes uneventfully, just one more stop at a motel then straight on to Lebanon.  Charlie greets them like conquering heroes when they arrive back home, hugging all of them before they even get out of the garage.  Kevin even seems happy to have them back, taking a break from the tablet to join them for a big family dinner that Dean and Charlie cook up for all of them.  It might have just been burgers like they always ate, but somehow they just tasted so much better homemade.  

After recounting all that happened on their trip to Charlie and Kevin, Dean goes quiet, glancing at Cas a little nervously.  Cas nods at him, looking to Charlie, and Sam is just about done with the silent conversation.

“Okay, guys, what's going on?” he asks.  Dean scowls at Sam but he ignores him, watching Cas instead.

“I've been experiencing some...difficulty adjusting to my humanity,” Cas explains.  “My grace has been trying to reassert itself over the human soul now occupying my vessel.”

“Wait, your- you have a soul?!” Sam blurts.  

“It was a side effect of the spell he used to save you,” Kevin explains.  “I found it on the tablet a few weeks ago.  Some kind of reciprocation for his sacrifice, so he can eventually return to heaven.”

“Was I the only one who didn't know?” Sam wonders, looking pointedly at Charlie's guilty face.

“I didn't know, until just a couple nights ago,” Dean mutters.  “And I didn't know  _ exactly  _ why until just now,” he adds, turning his frown on Cas.

“It wasn't as big of a problem at first,” Cas said, seemingly unbothered by Dean’s anger.  “It wasn't until I started to experience...to feel more human emotions that it started to react so violently.”

“So when Kevin found a recipe for the ointment on the tablet we prayed to Naomi to ask how it worked,” Charlie said sheepishly.

“ _ Really _ , guys, Naomi?”  Dean snaps.  

“Why didn't you ask us for help?” Sam wonders.

“I asked them not to,” Cas said quietly, looking at Dean almost like he was daring him to argue.  Dean falls silent.

“So what does this ointment do?” Sam asks.

“It helps Cas to tip the balance in favor of his grace briefly, to allow his soul to recover,” Charlie explains with a shrug.  “Like a cosmic bandaid.”

“What exactly does all this mean?” Sam asks Cas.  “Can you restore your grace, completely?”

“Possibly, with some time,” he shrugs.  Sam gets the distinct impression Cas is still hiding some part of the truth, and his suspicions are confirmed when Dean crosses his arms over his chest and slouches in his chair.

“We’re here for you, Cas,” Sam insists.  “If you need anything-”

“Thank you,” Cas says with a small smile.  “I'm grateful that you've all been here to help me through this transition, but I think...I think I need to do this part alone.”  He pushes away from the table and walks down the hall towards his room.  Dean watches him for a moment before he pushes himself to his feet to follow and Sam stands up to stop him.

“Dean, let him go.”

“I can't just  _ sit  _ here, Sam,” Dean snaps.  Sam frowns, Dean’s weird emotional outbursts the past two days have only been getting worse, and he has no idea what's going on with his brother.  Right now, in front of an audience, there's no way Dean will address them, so Sam just squeezes his arm tighter to urge him to sit back down.

“He needs some time, okay,” Sam insists.  Dean scowls, but drops back into his chair with a grunt.  Sam drops into his seat, and Ann finally sits up to participate in the conversation.

“Do you guys have a bomb shelter in this place?” she wonders.  

Everyone at the table stares at her in varying levels of confusion.

“Wh-why do you need one?” Charlie wonders.  

“I need to finish my spell, and I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen when I do,” she admits.  “I don't want to ruin your batcave.”

“I think I found a panic room,” Kevin shrugs.  “It's down past the armory, there's a service tunnel that ends in this weird looking steel door.”

“Guess it's worth checking out,” Sam shrugs.  Ann nods, pushing to her feet and walking off in the direction of the hallway.  

“You want any help?” Charlie asks.  Ann pauses, turning to look at Sam, and he's uncomfortable with what he sees there.

“I should be fine with just Sam,” she smiles.  “But thank you.”  She continues down the hallway, and Sam hesitates, practically able to feel Dean’s eyes on him before Dean even talks.

“Sam, if you-”

“She can't do this with anyone else,” Sam insisted.  “I'm not saying I'm special or some shit, but she’ll be too worried about any of you to go through with this properly if you're there.”

“What about you?  The way you two have been snuggling you'd think she'd worry about you getting hurt,” Dean points out.

“Snuggling?” Charlie perks up.

“First, grow up, Dean, we’re adults, and second...she knows she doesn't have a choice but for me to be there, because I won't let her do this alone.”  Sam turns and walks away from his family, following Ann down to the hallway Kevin had mentioned.

By the time Sam catches up to her, she's found and opened the door to the small room.  Sam watches as she starts the process of removing everything inside it.

“It's a steel storage closet,” she explains when Sam joins her, helping her carry a box of military rations from the room.  “But it'll work to keep...well, whatever happens, contained.”  She's nervous, and it's the first time Sam’s really been able to see it.  Once they've carried the last of the items from the room, she closes the door behind them and sighs heavily.

“You sure you're ready for this?” Sam asks quietly as she sets her blade on the floor, near the center of the room.  “Maybe we should wait another day?”

“No, I'm...I don't want to wait anymore,” she insists, reaching into a bag she must have grabbed from her room, pulling out a couple vials and some chalk.  “Okay, showtime,” she sighs.  Sam steps in front of her and reaches out his hand, sliding his fingers around to the back of her skull to tug her in for a kiss.  He’s not too sure why he does it, he just knows he needs to show her, somehow, that she's not alone.  She's stiff at first, but eventually leans into him, allowing herself to be engulfed in Sam’s arms as he tries to comfort her.  She pulls away first, and Sam presses his lips to her forehead.

“Whatever you need, I'm right here,” he promises.  She doesn't meet his eyes, nodding quickly as she turns from him, kneeling to prepare her spell.  She draws a circle just big enough for them both to sit in, adding some symbols along the outside of it, and once she's finished she pours the two vials out over her blade and hands.  The substance is powderish, but it clings to her skin and the metal.

“Can I see your hands, please,” she asks quietly.  Sam sits in front of her, holding them out and she pours the remaining contents of the bottles over them.  His skin tingles, growing warm to the touch where the powder sits.  He tilts his palms slightly, and the powder spreads, but doesn't fall off.  Setting the bottles outside the circle, Ann takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and looking up at Sam.  The hard determination that she wore like a second skin when they first met is back, and Sam starts to worry about what the spell requires.  “I'm going to recite a spell,” she explains, each word said carefully precise, “and when I'm done, that's when I'll need your help.”  She turns her blade where it sits on the floor so the handle is pointed at Sam.  “I need you to run the blade through my heart.”

Sam’s lungs collapse.

He can't speak, he can't breathe, just gawk at her in horror.  

“No.”  The word comes out on reflex, his powdered hands clenching into fists.  “I can't-”

“Sam, I'm sorry,” her voice cracks in spite of her best effort to remain stoic.  “A human has to complete the ritual, I can't do it myself.”

“You want me to  _ stab  _ you?!” Sam repeats in disbelief, his voice catching on the last word.  

“I need you to trust me,” she insists.  

“This is why you didn't talk to me about the spell,” Sam’s lungs have reinflated, but it feels like they're wrapped around his ribs.  “If you wanted me to trust you, you would have explained this  _ before  _ we got here, given me time to-”

“It's one last death,” she insists, almost panicked, “and then I wake up as a human.”  There's tears in her eyes now, and Sam blinks away his own.  Bile burns in his throat, making his stomach churn as memories he'd rather not think about come to the surface.

“What if you don't wake up?”  Sam’s whole body is shaking, and she leans closer to him, pressing her forehead to his.  “What if the last memory I have of you is  _ killing  _ you?!”

“It's not-”

“I don't-” Sam swallows hard, trying to compose himself.  “The last time a woman I cared about asked me to do this- I couldn't sleep for  _ days _ .”  Madison's face, blurred by time and tears, floats in front of his eyes.  Her eyes pleading as he holds a gun in front of him, his hand trembling…

“It's different.   _ This  _ is different,” she insists quietly.  

“You're right,” Sam shakes his head.  “It's different, because it's  _ worse. _  I liked Madison and it  _ crippled _ me to...to…”  Sam sucks in a breath, forcing the lump in his throat away.  “I care about you, so fucking much, that if this...if you don't…”

“Please, Sam.”  There's desperation in her voice now, naked fear.  “It can't be anyone else but you.”

“Why me?   _ Why?” _

“The magic, it's- it's strengthened if the person who finishes the spell is bonded to me, if they truly  _ want  _ me to come back from this.”  She pauses to take a deep breath, Sam’s own breaths a rattle in his chest.  “Sam,” she pleads.  

“I can't,” Sam gasps.  “Please, don't make me do this.”  

“You can,” she insists.  “You're the first- the  _ only  _ person I've ever met that I've ever thought could do this.”  She dips her head, her nose brushing his, her words warm over his lips.  “I need you.”  Sam tilts his head up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, and she kisses back with equal ferocity.  He has a fleeting thought that this might be the last time, but he pushes it away.  He’s so fucking scared right now it's not funny, and he's bordering on angry.  If she'd given him warning, given him time to think this through and prepare himself…

He pulls out of the kiss, his head bowed and his eyes closed.

If she'd given him warning, he never would have gone through with this.  He would have spent forever combing the bunker for another option, to the point where she'd probably leave him.  And she knows that's what Sam would do.  

She's waited long enough, she shouldn't have to wait on him.  He nods.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he breathes.  She sighs in relief, leaning back and holding her hands out over the blade where it lies between them.

She recites the spell, silver eyes turning to gold, and Sam watches her, memorizing her face, the sound of her voice, the feel of the heat coming off her skin, the way she's always burned a little warmer than any other person he's met.  He starts to realize, as he mentally prepares himself for the worst case scenario, that this may be his last chance to speak to her, to tell her how much she's come to mean to him.  A chance he didn't have with Jessica.

She stops talking, the spell complete.

Sam picks up her blade, his hands shaking under its weight.

He meets her eyes, burning gold and so  _ sure  _ of him.

He places the tip of the blade against her rib cage, and forces the words from his chest.

“I love you.” 

She smiles, and with a quick surge of strength, he slides the blade home.

She gasps, the sound cut off on a choking noise, and Sam releases the blade handle to catch her as she starts to fall backwards, pulling her close and cradling her in his arms.  She looks up at him, the gold fading from her eyes as she chokes again.  She tries to speak but nothing comes out.

“Shh, it's okay, it's okay, I've got you,” he assures her, smoothing her hair away from her face as he blinks tears from his eyes.  With one last labored breath, her eyes slip closed and she goes completely limp in his arms.  A more recent memory stirs, of Sarah dying in his arms by Crowley’s hex bag, and Sam’s heart stops.   _ Not again.  God, please, not again... _

For a single, terrifying moment, there's nothing.  No sound, no movement, just...nothing.  

Then Sam’s pushed out of the circle by an unseen force, Ann’s body yanked from his arms to stay inside the circle.  His heart throbs in panic, but he can't get any closer to the circle, an invisible barrier keeping him where he is.

“Ann!” he shouts.  Her back arches violently, and a bright flash of light followed by a burst of heat forces Sam to close his eyes.  When he manages to open them again, there's a fire burning in the circle where Ann is, contained by the edges like a demon in a devil’s trap.  The heat is intense, Sam immediately starts to sweat, his clothes clinging to his skin as he tries to see through the flames to where Ann is laying on the floor.

Just as suddenly as they appeared, the flames stop, the floor and ceiling of the room charred black.  There's a mound of black ash in the center of the circle, and the panic sets into Sam’s chest.

“No no no no no- Annika, Ann please-” Sam pleads as he crawls towards the mound, reaching out to sift through it.

“Sam!!”

“Sammy!!!”  Dean and Kevin are pounding on the closed door, but Sam ignores them.  His fingers come in contact with something solid, and just like that the whole mound starts to shift.

Ann sits up slowly, her clothes burned away, but otherwise... _ alive. _

“Sam?” she coughs, her voice a dry croak.

“I got you, I got you,” Sam sobs with relief, helping her wipe the rest of the ash from her face and hair.   _ She's okay, she’s okay…  _ He pulls his shirt off, slipping it over her head before tucking her close to him, cocooning her in his arms and legs.  “Don't you  _ ever  _ scare me like that again,” he pleads into her hair, his hold on her desperate.  She smelled faintly smoky, that earthy smell that comes after a forest fire, but she's alive, breathing and coughing against his skin and clinging to his arms where they're wrapped around her.  

“Thank you,” she gasps.  The door bursts open and Dean and Kevin stumble in, freezing when they catch sight of what happened.

“Are you both okay?” Kevin asks, moving towards them in concern.

“Sounded like a fucking tornado came through here,” Dean added.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, smiling up at Kevin and his brother.  “Yeah, we’re good.”  He clears his throat, shaking himself out of his daze.  “Can you bring me a blanket?”  Kevin nods and hurries out of the room to the supplies they'd piled up outside, and Sam looks over at his brother where he's sifting through the rest of the ash.  Dean holds up the handle from Ann’s blade, but the rest of it has melted away.

“I'll be damned,” Dean huffed.

“Too late for that,” Ann coughed.  Dean just gaped at her but Sam laughed.  Kevin chuckled too as he helped Sam wrap Annika up in the blanket, both to keep her warm and to protect her decency.

“She has a point, Dean, you've been to Hell before,” Kevin adds.

“Alright, alright, very funny,” Dean mutters, turning and leaving the room, Kevin following along behind him.  Ann stirs in Sam’s arms once the others are gone, burrowing closer to him.

“Let's get you washed up,” he suggests, and she nods against his chest.  Sam stands up slowly, lifting Annika up once he was on his feet.  His progress is slow, but he carries her through the bunker hallways towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind them for privacy.  

“I'm okay, Sam,” she says with a small laugh, “you can put me down.  I’m human, not porcelain.”  He blushes as he sets her down on her feet slowly, a relieved smile tugging at his lips as she walks steadily over to the mirror.  She drops the blanket, Sam’s shirt still covering her like a dress, and she examines her reflection closely.

“What are you looking for?” Sam asks as he starts the water in one of the shower stalls.

“I don't know,” she huffs.  “I mean, I feel the change, but I didn't think it would be this...small.”  Sam walks up behind her, looking her over in the mirror.  The tattoo on her hand is gone, and her skin is cooler than it used to be where his hands rest on her shoulders, but there are no other external changes.  

And she still takes Sam’s breath away.  The subtle curve of her chest under his shirt, her sharp silver eyes, and the way her presence seems to fill the room.  He wants her, wants to wake up to her in his bed, wants to be the reason she smiles, wants to love her in a way he wasn't ever allowed to love anyone before.  He can be open and honest about everything and he doesn't have to worry about it being too much because she  _ knows _ , she knows the life because she's lived it.  He gently brushes her hair away from her face, barely restraining himself to a soft kiss against her neck, the smoky scent of the ash still lingering in her skin.

“Come on,” he insists, nodding towards the shower.  They each strip, and once they're under the spray, Sam methodically starts to wash the ash from Annika’s hair and body.  It's not sexual, even though his anatomy doesn't seem to get that message.  He carefully moves around her, soaping, rinsing, and when she's rinsed the last bit of ash colored shampoo from her hair, she turns to face him.

“Did you mean it?” she asked softly.  

“Yeah,” Sam nods.  He doesn't even wonder what she's asking about.  

“And you really want me to stay?”  She’s so hopeful at the prospect of having a permanent home, and Sam nods, wrapping her up in his arms.

“Of course, for as long as you want.”  She links her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight, and while it's not an  _ I love you, too _ , it's good enough for Sam.

They sneak back through the bunker in towels, Ann slipping off to her room, and Sam to his to get dressed.  He makes his way back down to Ann’s room, pausing in the doorway when he hears Charlie’s voice. 

“I know, you've been through alot, I just thought it'd be nice, you know, with Kevin leaving again tomorrow-”

“I think it's a wonderful idea,” Ann says warmly, smiling at Sam over Charlie’s shoulder when he walks up.  

“What is?” he asks.  Charlie spins to face him, a nervous smile on her face.

“A movie?  Something fun to kinda celebrate?” she asks.  Sam nods, smiling at her reassuringly.

“Make it a chick flick, something to challenge Dean’s masculinity,” Ann giggles.  Charlie perks up, grinning as she leads the two of them down the hallway.

“Oh, I've got just the movie,” she titters.  “I'll get it set up, then if Dean and Cas haven't wandered out I'll go find them!”  They all make their way out to the main room, Sam and Ann getting comfortable on the couch next to Kevin, who looks happy for the reprieve from tablet study.  A couple minutes later, Dean and Cas walk in from the direction of the garage.

“Where'd the other couch come from?” Dean was asking, and Cas shrugged.

“We were on our way back from the store, and we passed by what Charlie called a garage sale,” Cas explained.  “She insisted we pick it up.”

“There you are!” Charlie grinned when she caught sight of them entering the room.  “Grab a seat, the movie is about to start.”  Dean made a face, but to Sam’s surprise he didn't protest, just dropped onto the couch next to Cas with a huff.  When the movie actually started Dean made a show of scowling some more, but Sam knew Dean had taken every date to see it the year Moulin Rouge had come out, so he wasn't too worried about it.  Ann settled in closer to him, sighing happily, and thoughts of his brother were pushed from his mind.  


	11. 11. Catch Me When I Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this, another update, so soon?! YES INDEED, and it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The photo linked to the chapter is what started this whole thing, I saw it on Tumblr and the scene wrote itself, and the story formed around it. The artist runs a blog: http://destiel-fanart-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com/ and she’s awesome :) Anyway guys, enjoy this, you’ve earned it.

_Dean_

 

Dean can't do it anymore.

He can't just sit around and pretend that he hasn't been freaking out for two days straight having a (apparently) bisexual panic because he suddenly realized he wants his best friend as _more_ than a friend.  Sam and Ann’s interactions haven't helped any.  It's not like they're making out or doing anything crazy in front of him, but their connection is obvious.  Dean can tell how much Sam cares for her, and to see her return Sam’s affection has him feeling a little jealous.  It's taken every ounce of self control to keep his face a stoic mask, to keep Sam from seeing him suffer and to keep Charlie from being too nosy.  He thinks Cas might realize something is wrong, but so far he hasn't said anything.

Dean’s done listening to Cas insist he wants to do this alone because he knows Cas shouldn't have to.  Dean may not know jack shit about what to do with his feelings for Cas, but dammit he can at least be there for him.  

Maybe that's why, when he leaves the makeshift panic room, his feet take him straight to Cas’ door.  He hesitates for a moment before knocking, more nervous than he's been in his entire _life_.

“Come in,” Cas calls, and Dean pushes the door open, stepping into Cas’ room and letting it close behind him.  Cas is sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees, lifting his head from where it rested in his hands.  “Dean-”

“Shut up and listen,” Dean snaps.  “I get that you're trying to be your own person and own up to your choices.  It's admirable and I get it, but don't you think for one _second_ that I'm going to let you make this choice alone!”

“Dean-”

“I'm not finished!”  He needs to say this before he loses his nerve.  “You are _family,_ Cas.  I’d fight for you, and I'd die for you, just like you've done for me.  I won't let you shut me out!”  Once he stops shouting, the silence in the room gets thick.  Cas stands up slowly, staring intently at Dean like he's trying to read his mind or something.  Maybe he is.

“I’m going to call Kevin in.  Get the full spell to restore my grace,” Cas says cooly, pushing past Dean towards the door.  A cold panic takes hold of Dean, making him reach out and grip Cas’ arm.

“Wait...I thought…” he stumbles over his words, anxiety setting his stomach churning.  

“I am most useful with my grace,” Cas explains, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes.  “You will not have to worry about injury to my person on hunts-”

“Stop.”  Dean can't hear this, doesn't want to hear it.  He'd been sure Cas would choose to remain human, to stay with Dean...even if Cas didn't return this newfound “affection” for him, Dean would at least have Cas himself.  He'd just started to let himself believe he'd get to keep him, and just like that Cas was already slipping through his fingers.

“I thought this would be what you wanted for me, isn't it?” Cas asks, frowning in confusion.

“Yes!  No!  I- I don't fucking know,” Dean grumbles, releasing his hold on Cas as he turns to start pacing.  

“You always feel so...guilty when I mention being human, I thought-”

“Yes, of course I feel guilty, Cas!  You're a fucking angel, you deserve something better than, than this miserable, human world,” Dean sighs.

“So why are you upset?  I can restore my grace, Dean, maybe even all the way back.”  Cas crosses his arms, the human gesture turning the invisible knife in Dean’s gut.  Dean can't answer that question.  He can't bring himself to say the words he'd have to say, his chest feels like it's collapsing in on itself, and it's too much.  Everything is too much.

“You know what, fuck this,” Dean grunts.  “I don't need it.”  He pushes past a disgruntled Cas and down the bunker hallway, and he's made it to the garage before he even realizes where he's going.  He climbs into Baby, but a quick check of his pockets shows his keys are in his room.  “God damn it!” Dean shouts, venting his frustration to the windshield of his car.  He shifts in the seat and lays across the leather bench, staring at the roof of the car and ignoring the tears trying to escape his eyes.

What was he supposed to do?  Tell Cas how he feels?  Tell him that thinking about Cas being there in the bunker, hunting with him, living a life with him is all Dean really wants?  Tell him that Dean is terrified of something happening to Cas, of losing him because he's human now, and so much more fragile?  He can hardly admit it to himself, how the hell is he going to voice his feelings to the man they're for.  Hell, the fact that he was emotionally attracted to a _man_ was something he was still wrapping his head around.  

Granted, it was _Cas_ that he was attracted to, not the body he was now permanently attached to.

Attracted... _fuck_ , Dean really was.  Probably had been for a while but his life hadn't allowed him to see it.

He digs his palms into his eyes, refusing to cry over this.  To cry over this stupid one sided infatuation with his _best friend_ , who obviously wasn't capable of feeling the same for him.  Maybe Cas is right, maybe him being an angel again will help Dean get past this, to forget it all, and just go on the way he's been going for as long as he could remember.  

He doesn't know how long he’s been in the car, and he's halfway decided to hot wire Baby just to get the fuck out of there when the garage door opens.  Dean holds his breath, listening as footsteps echo off the concrete, hoping against hope that he remains hidden.

A pair of blue eyes peek in through the passenger window at him, Cas’ face full of concern, and Dean exhales, scowling at the ceiling as Cas climbs into the back seat.

“What?!” Dean spits.

“I wanted to...I don't want you to be angry with me.”  Cas’ voice floats over the back of the seat.

“I'm not angry with you,” Dean mutters, his tone the exact opposite of his words.  He scrubs a hand over his face and tries again.  “This situation sucks, Cas.”

“I do not pretend to understand everything you have suffered in life, Dean, whatever it is that makes you see so much negative in the world.”

“Maybe because the world is a shitty place,” Dean scoffs.  He hears Cas shift in the backseat, and his face comes into view as he leans forward over the front seat.

“You see the choice I face to be between two evils: I become human and lose my potential, or I become and angel and lose my family.”  Dean’s heart clenches at the word family, his jaw tightening to avoid showing any reaction.

“Sounds about right,” he quips.  Cas shakes his head, looking over Dean and out the windshield like he's searching for inspiration.

“I choose to see it differently.  I either lose my grace and gain a human family and a life so full of incredible potential, or I regain my grace, and I can protect you for as long as you require, until your time is done.”  Dean’s throat feels thick, and he turns his face towards the glove box to avoid looking at Cas.  

He wasn't expecting that answer.

It seems like whatever choice Cas makes, he intended to stay with Dean all along.

“You shouldn't have to choose,” Dean breathes, his voice shaky.  Cas just hums above him and they sit there in the quiet for a bit.  Dean takes comfort in Cas’ silence, in the way Cas knows he needs some time to think, but also knows that he really doesn't want to be alone.  Dean eventually sits up, keeping his back to Cas but sharply aware of his location in relation to Dean himself.  Cas takes Dean’s movement as a sign to start speaking again.

“I didn't tell you this, because the first time I noticed it was during the struggle against Lucifer, and I wasn't sure you would want to know.”  Dean gestures for Cas to keep talking, too unsteady to speak.  “When I pulled you out of hell, I had to bind your soul to my grace for safe passage, and when we separated...some of it was left behind.”  Dean grips the steering wheel white knuckled.  A piece of Cas’ grace was... _inside him_?  

“Why are you telling me now?” Dean asks shortly, wincing at the bitterness still lingering in his voice.

“Because whichever life I choose, I'll need that back...I’ll need your help.  I need you to be okay with my decision.”   _Of course he does,_ Dean sighs to himself.  He can't even wallow in self pity without feeling guilty about ruining Cas’ life.  “You’re not okay,” Cas says gently, and his soft voice feels loud in the small space.  It's not a question.

“No, Cas, I'm not,” Dean sighs, eyes focused on the dashboard.  “I'm not okay.  And I don't know how to _be_ okay, with- with-” Dean’s voice dies in his throat again as he tries to say the words.

“I'm sorry,” Cas sighs.  “I...if you want me to go, I can go.”

“Go?” Dean scoffs.  “Cas, I don't want you to go.”

“You don't?”  The obvious surprise in Cas’ voice finally draws Dean’s eyes to him.  

“Cas, I need you here,” Dean says quietly, some of the words he's been trying to say finally making it out of him.  “Angel or human, it doesn't matter, I just...I need you to stay.”  He hopes the weight behind his words tells Cas he means in his life and not just in the car at that moment.

“I thought...I'm sorry, I thought you'd- that you would rather I left, rather than feel the guilt I represent.”  

“Do you want to leave?” Dean asks.  He's scared of the answer, and he's trying not to show it but from the look on Cas’ face, Cas can see it.  Cas’ eyes hold his, and Dean swears that as he waits his heart stops.

“I will never leave you,” Cas promises.  Dean’s heart nearly breaks his ribs, and something between a laugh and a sob escapes him.  Cas’ promise will be a hard one to keep, but it's like a balm to Dean’s soul, soothing tensions and worries he had been carrying around for far too long.  The hope is there again, that maybe someday, they could… Dean swallows hard, taking a few deep breaths before attempting to speak.

“Sorry, I couldn't tell you all this sooner,” Dean said.  “I'm not...I'm not the greatest at opening up.”

“I understand,” Cas says, something heavy behind those words.  Dean nods, unable to say much else.  He reaches across the car, squeezing Cas’ shoulder gently, and he's probably imagining it, but Cas leans into his hand, a small almost smile tugging at his lips.

They climb out of the car and head back inside the bunker to find Charlie setting up a movie in the main room.  Dean notices a new, slightly smaller couch next to the one he'd rescued a couple months ago.  

“Where'd the other couch come from?” he asked, and Cas shrugged.

“We were on our way back from the store, and we passed by what Charlie called a garage sale,” he explained.  “She insisted we pick it up.”

“There you are!” Charlie grinned when she caught sight of them walking up.  “Grab a seat, the movie is about to start.”  Sam and Ann were sitting on the larger couch, her hair damp from a shower, a blanket laid over her and Sam’s arm wrapped firmly around her.  Kevin was on the other end with room for Charlie between him and the couple, which left the two seater to Dean and Cas.  Cas went and sat down, and Dean considered calling it a night, he felt abnormally exhausted with everything that had happened in the past week.

Then Cas turned and looked at him over his shoulder, and Dean found himself sitting on the couch next to him without any further hesitation.

Charlie had chosen _Moulin Rouge,_ not exactly Dean’s favorite movie, but it wasn’t bad, and something silly would probably help lift everyone’s spirits...at least until the end of the movie.

Dean watches Cas out of the corner of his eye, Cas’ fascination with the movie obvious on his face.  Cas even seems to understand all the innuendo laden jokes at the beginning, which Dean was mildly surprised about.  Cas shifts at some point during the movie, tucking his feet up underneath him to get more comfortable, and it leans him closer into Dean’s personal space, which Dean accommodates by putting his arm on the back of the couch.  It's such a textbook teenage romcom situation that Dean wonders what other movies Cas has seen, and if he's doing this on purpose.  He glances at the other couch; Ann is asleep, as is Kevin, Charlie is watching the movie with heart eyes and Sam seems fairly focused on the screen too.  Dean could actually get away with this, if he wanted.

And, strangely enough, he wants to.  He wants to try, to see what Cas’ reaction might be, to see if maybe he might…

Dean can feel his cheeks reddening, but he takes a deep breath and slides his hand forward slowly, his fingers coming to rest lightly on the back of Cas’ neck.  Cas responds by leaning back against the back of the couch, and Dean can't help the smile on his own face.  He slowly trails his fingers upwards, just brushing the short hairs on the back of Cas’ neck, and Cas sighs, smiling at the movie screen.

Tension leaks out of Dean’s pores.   _This is...nice_ , he decides, his fingers continuing to rub patterns over Cas’ neck with varying levels of pressure.  Cas is relaxed, smiling as Dean grows bolder and slides his hand higher into Cas’ hairline.  It's comforting, but not overwhelming, and Dean is basking in the feeling of being connected to Cas, of being allowed these touches not just by Cas, but by himself.  His thumb, hidden from view of the other couch, slides along the side of Cas’ neck to the skin behind his ear, brushing lightly over the end of his jaw.

He feels Cas’ sudden intake of breath, though he can't hear it, and he freezes, not sure if he'd just pushed this too far.  In the movie, Ewan McGregor starts to sing, and it's so cheesy and stupid that the words are describing his own life he suddenly wants to flee the room.

_Never knew I could feel like this._

_Like I've never seen the sky before._

Cas turns to look at him, and there's something in his eyes that sets Dean’s entire body trembling.  He pulls his hand off of Cas’ neck, dropping it into his lap as he pointedly refuses to meet Cas’ gaze.  The movie plays on, the height of the romantic storyline playing out on screen, and Dean scowls at the tv, wishing he could leave without drawing unwanted attention to himself.  His fingers are tingling with the memory of Cas’ skin and he clenches his fist to keep them from trembling.

_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_

_It all revolves around you_

Just when Dean is about to stand up, he feels something brush against his right hand.  He looks down, and it takes him a moment to realize what he's seeing.

Cas’ fingers, cautiously brushing Dean’s skin.

He snaps his eyes back to the movie screen, but he's not seeing it.  His heart leaps into his throat and it's all he can do to keep from pulling his hand away out of habit.  

As Cas’ fingertips trace the bumps of Dean’s knuckles, Dean starts to wonder if Cas realizes the meaning behind the gesture, or if he's just responding to Dean’s touches out of instinct.  Cas’ fingers come to rest against his wrist, and then slip away, leaving Dean a confused mess.  

Once the movie is over, Cas practically sprints from the room and down the hallway.  Charlie and Sam whisper a joke about him needing to pee _that_ badly, but Dean knows that's not it.  Whatever had passed between them during that movie had changed _everything_ , and had brought a side of Dean into the light he'd never planned on showing anyone.  Dean says goodnight to everyone and makes his way down the hall towards his bedroom, but he doesn't stop at his door.  He takes the ten or so steps it takes to get to Cas’ and knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Cas’ voice is strained and tired, and Dean pushes the door open, closing it behind him.  He'd spent hours in this room, watching Cas, waiting for him to wake up, but this time the room felt...different.  Everything felt different, like his entire life had been lifted and moved off center by a couple inches.  Everything looked the same but...not.  Cas is sitting on the bed, and he looks up at Dean slowly, his brow wrinkled in worry.

“I, uh, we need to talk about-” Dean attempts to start.

“Dean, I apologize, I didn't mean to-” Cas interrupts quickly, but when he goes to stand he grunts in pain and falls back to sitting on the bed.

“Cas?”  Cas places his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands, his body trembling.  “Cas, hey, it’s okay,” Dean sighed, walking closer to kneel on the floor in front of him.  “That...what happened on the couch...I-I didn't mind,” he admits, his cheeks heating.

“I'm glad.  I was afraid I'd misinterpreted your intimate touches.  I am still...so new at this.  Charlie tries to help, but…”  Cas gasps, his back arching.

“Your wings?” Dean asks, hesitating only a moment before reaching out, resting his palms on Cas’ knees, trying to comfort him through touch.  Cas nods, his hands falling to hang limply between his legs, his eyes shut tightly.  Dean may be chicken shit about what he was feeling for Cas, but he wasn’t going to let that get in the way right now.  “How can I help?”  

“Dean, you don't-”

“I gotta try, Cas.  You deserve that much from me,” Dean insists, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as he was feeling.  Cas finally looked up at him, confusion in his eyes.

“Dean, you don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly.  Dean shook his head.

“Are you kidding?  Of course I do,” Dean insisted, “you gave up _everything_ for me.  Let me do this one thing for you.”  His heart was pounding in his chest, skipping a couple beats when Cas’ hand moved, his palm sliding over the back of Dean’s fingers, his thumb brushing his skin gently.

“You know why, right?  Why I've always chosen you?” Cas asked softly.  Dean swallowed hard at the lump growing in his throat as Cas’ eyes met his.  “I didn’t know until I became human, until I began to feel... but it-it makes sense now.”  Dean forced himself not to look away, not to shy away from what Cas was admitting to him.  He knew, maybe he’d always known, maybe that’s why in spite of everything that tried to tear them apart, here they were.  What he was feeling for Cas was stronger than biology, stronger than preconceived notions of who Dean could and could not feel this way about.And he never dared to hope Cas would feel the same.

“I know, Cas,” was all Dean could say.  Cas took a deep breath, his head dropping forward, and Dean let it come to rest against his, forehead to forehead.  They breathe together, sharing air and emotions too thick to voice out loud.  But they know, Dean realizes as he turns his palm upward to let Cas’ hand wrap around his.  They both know that this is more than friendship, more than family.

“I know what I have to do to fix this,” Cas quietly breaks the silence.

“Anything you need, I’m right here,” Dean insisted, squeezing his hand.  Cas leaned back from him, eyes slipping closed as he takes a deep breath.

“It’s going to be painful for me, but lingering in the middle like this, it’s…”  He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling.  “I can't, anymore.”

“You've made your choice?” Dean asked, pretending like the answer wasn't going to either change his life or crush his heart.  Cas nodded and stood, helping Dean to his feet before removing his shirt.  Cas’ torso wasn’t as scarred and marked as Dean’s, the enochian tattoo on his ribs standing out in contrast to the rest of his relatively smooth skin.  Cas turned to toss the shirt away, and Dean noticed the angry red skin over his shoulder blades.  His hand moves on its own, smoothing over the marked skin in a silent apology.  “Cas-”

“I have been of two minds for too long, but now...I know what I want.”  Cas turns to face Dean, certainty in his eyes.  “I need to rip out my remaining grace, all of it.  I need to fall.”  In a small voice, one Dean’s not used to associating with the angel, Cas breathes “I want to become human.  Fully, permanently.  One lifetime on this earth amongst my father’s creations.”  Dean felt his throat close up with sudden emotion, the implication in his words clear.   _One life here with Dean._  Cas reached out, and Dean didn't pull away when Cas’ fingers slid to the back of his neck.

“I don't want you to hurt anymore because of me,” Dean said quietly into the space between them.

“Then let me do this, because lingering between what is and what could be is worse.”  Dean looked up, Cas’ eyes were determined and bright, and Dean nodded.  Cas almost smiled, his hand dropping from Dean’s skin.  “Please remove your shirt,” he said softly.  If the situation was any less serious, Dean would have made a joke, but it felt wrong to belittle what was about to happen.  He pulled his tshirt over his head, tossing it aside, and Cas took a step closer, putting his hand over Dean’s shoulder, where his handprint used to be.  “This may hurt,” Cas adds quietly, squeezing Dean’s arm tighter.  

A sharp, white hot pain seared into Dean’s shoulder, fading quickly into a dull throb before he even has a chance to cry out.  He catches a slight glow coming from Cas’ hand out of the corner of his eye, then Cas cries out in pain, his knees starting to buckle.  Dean wraps his arms around him instinctively, and gasped when he felt his hand come in contact with something wet.  Adjusting his hold, he peers over Cas’ shoulder.

 _Blood._  The wounds on Cas’ back had reopened and were bleeding.  Cas’ body was trembling, pain making his skin shine with sweat as he whimpered into Dean’s shoulder.  The blue glow of grace starts to shine from Cas’ back, and he becomes dead weight in Dean’s arms.  

Just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears.  Dean slowly lowers Cas to sit on the bed, Cas’ hand still clinging to Dean’s arm as the room falls into silence, quickly broken by the sound of Cas’ sobbing into Dean’s chest.  Dean realized he was crying too, his face wet with tears he didn't remember falling.  He steps closer to Cas, his left hand wrapping up in his hair, his bloodied right hand resting on the back of his neck as he pulls him close, Dean pressing a chaste kiss to his hair before resting his chin on the top of Cas’ head.  Cas’ left arm wraps around his back, nails digging marks into the skin just over Dean’s spine.

“I've got you,” Dean promised, fingers gently combing through Cas’ hair.  “I've got you, Castiel.  You're gonna be okay.”  Cas’ crying slowed to a stop, his breaths evening out as well.  Dean glanced down, the horrific wounds giving way to thin cuts on Cas’ back, harsh against his smooth skin.  “Let's get these wounds cleaned and get some sleep,” Dean sighed against the crown of his head.  He was beyond fucking exhausted, emotionally and physically, he could only imagine what Cas felt like.

“Wait,” Cas said, gently pushing against Dean until he released his grip.  His hair was a mess from Dean’s fingers and his face was a mess from crying, but he was smiling, and that was all Dean could ask for.  He held up his open palm to Dean, and Dean looked down in confusion.  A small, glowing white crystal was in his hand, maybe an inch long, already attached to a corded necklace.  “I want you to have it,” Cas insisted.  Dean’s eyes widened when he realized that the crystal held all that was left of Cas’ grace.  He forced back the tears that threatened to start spilling all over again.

“Cas...thank you,” Dean sighed, slipping the necklace over his head.  The crystal was warm against his skin, resting just above his heart, and he smiled down at Cas.

“I had Charlie help me make that,” he said softly.  “I think...I think I always knew this was the choice I was going to make.”  Dean leaned down and pressed his lips against Cas’ forehead briefly, too overwhelmed to do much else.

“Okay, come on, let's get you washed and in bed,” Dean hummed.  Cas nodded, standing slowly and walking towards the bedroom door, Dean close behind in case he stumbled.  He paused just before walking outside, turning to look over his shoulder at Dean.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked.  Dean didn't even hesitate.

“Always, Cas.”

When they get to the bathroom, Sam is in there brushing his teeth, and he chokes on his toothbrush when Cas walks in.

“Cas?!  What the hell happened?!” he gasps once he spits out the toothpaste in his mouth.

“I've removed my grace from my body.  I'm a human now.”  Cas says the words so casually, and Dean almost laughs at Sam’s utterly shocked expression.

“Really?!  That's- wow, Cas that's great,” Sam smiles.  If he notices the necklace around Dean’s neck, he doesn't say anything, just grabs the first aid kit as Dean wipes the blood off Cas’ back with a warm washcloth.  “Do you feel any different?” Sam wonders.

“A little,” Cas admits.  “Mostly I feel relieved.”

“Well, happy birthday, Cas,” Sam chuckles.  

“Birthday?” Cas wonders.  

“Yeah, first day being human,” Dean grins.  Drying the water off of Cas’ back as Sam preps some gauze for his wounds.  “What day is it, Sam?” he asks.  

“September 17th,” Sam says after checking his phone.  

“Look at that, almost five years to the day since you pulled me from hell,” Dean says, cleaning up the counter as Sam finishes disinfecting and bandaging Cas’ wounds.  

“Wow...happy anniversary too, I guess,” Sam chuckles, putting the first aid kit away.  Dean blushes and Cas looks at him knowingly.

“Thank you...both of you,” he says, looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his back in the mirror.  Dean follows his gaze, and realizes Cas’ handprint is back on his shoulder again, and this time, he doesn't really mind having it.  It's a physical reminder of what he means to Cas, of Cas’ choice to stay here with him.  Sam glances at Dean’s arm, and then down to the necklace Dean is wearing.  At first he doesn't react, but when his eyes widen and move back up to Dean’s face, Dean knows he's been caught.

“You should go get changed out of those clothes,” Dean says to Cas, patting his shoulder fondly.  Cas nods, turning from the bathroom with a small smile.  Dean busies himself with washing his hands, anything to keep from looking at Sam’s face.

“The handprint is back,” Sam observes.

“Yup.”

“And is that...Cas’ grace?” he asks slowly, gesturing at the crystal.

“What of it?” Dean snaps, reflexively slipping back into _deflect_ mode.

“I was just...why are you wearing it and not Cas?”  Sam’s voice is simply curious, not accusatory, and Dean shifts uncomfortably.  He'd only _just_ started to figure this out with Cas, he wasn't ready to talk to his little brother about it.

“He gave it to me,” Dean admitted, drying his hands off.

“He- Dean, that's…”

“What of it, Sam?!” Dean asks, crossing his arms and _really_ wishing he had a shirt on.

“Nothing!  I- I simply never thought that you and Cas...well…” Sam trails off, and Dean forces himself to relax.  This was Sam, and after everything they'd been through, he was the one person Dean should be able to trust.

“Me neither,” Dean admits quietly.  Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.  “Sam, I have no idea what I'm doing here, okay, I just need some time.”

“Okay,” Sam agrees quickly.  “I won't say anything to anyone.”  Dean nods and turns to leave.  “Dean?”  He pauses, looking back at his brother.  “I'm proud of you,” Sam says with a smile.

“Shut up,” Dean grunts, turning away and leaving the bathroom to hide his smile.

Dean walks into Cas’ room to find him sitting in bed, the sheets pulled over his legs, leaning slightly forward to keep his back off the headboard.  His eyes light up happily when Dean walks in, and Dean’s cheeks heat, but he manages a small smile back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, shutting the door and walking over to Cas’ bed.  

“Better than I have in a long time,” Cas sighs.  “I feel...right.  More so than I ever have, even as an angel.”  

“That's great, Cas.  Really,” Dean says sincerely.  He kicks off his shoes, turning to sit next to Cas, leaning on the headboard with his legs out in front of him.  Cas looks at him curiously.

“Will you be able to sleep like that?” he wonders, glancing at Dean’s jeans.  

“Done it before,” Dean shrugs, not entirely sure he's ready to climb into bed with Cas _without_ pants on.  Cas doesn't say anything else about it, but shifts so he's sitting facing Dean.

“Dean...I may have learned a lot about my emotions over the past months but I'm still fairly uncertain when it comes to others.”  Cas’ eyes fall to the bed, nerves making him shift adorably.

“That's not true,” Dean says, pushing through his vulnerability, “you've always known what was going on in my head.”

“I think that might have been my grace,” Cas admits.  “Because even after all this, I...I still don't know if I- if we…” he trails off, and Dean realizes if they're ever going to get past this, he's got to move past his own insecurities.

“I don't know when this changed, exactly,” Dean sighs.  “Maybe it didn't change, and I'm just seeing it for the first time.  Maybe this has been there all along and we just didn't have the time to figure it out.”  He scrubs a hand over his face, and makes a point of forcing himself to meet Cas’ eyes.  “I can't promise this will be easy, you know.  I've got a lot of baggage that usually keeps my mouth shut about feelings and all that crap.”  He reaches out, palm up, thankful his hand wasn't shaking.  “But I think...I think I want to try and figure this out _with_ you.”  He holds his breath as Cas looks down at his hand, watching as his own fingers move to wrap around Dean’s.

“I want that, too,” Cas admits.  “And I...humans generally label these things, but are we...lovers?”  Cas frowns thoughtfully as Dean flushes crimson.  “Soulmates?” he tries again.  Dean clears his throat, tugging on Cas’ hand gently to get him to stop talking.

“We’re simply us,” Dean said, “and I think that's enough.”

“Yes, I think it is.”  Cas smiles at him, scooting closer, his eyes examining Dean’s bare chest.  “Dean, may I touch you?” he asks bluntly.  

“I guess?” Dean laughs nervously at the sudden, strange request.  “Mind if I ask why?”  Cas released his hand, his fingers tracing slow lines up over his wrist and his lower arm.  

“I've never really fully experienced physical touch, because I was simply a passenger in a vessel.  Now this is _my_ body.”  Cas says it all matter of factly, and knowing that it wasn't sexual but simply curiosity helped Dean relax.

“Okay,” Dean sighs, settling deeper in the pillows.  He watches in silence as Cas innocently explores his skin, fingers trailing in patterns up his bicep to his shoulder.  His fingers don't stop there, trailing down Dean’s bare chest, skirting around his nipple, down the lines of his ribs to caress the enochian tattoo Cas has the twin of.  Dean watches his own chest start to rise and fall a bit faster, but he's too busy focusing on Cas to worry about it.  His blue eyes are focused, watching his hand intently like it held all the secrets in the world.  His touches were bordering on reverent, even with every imperfection or scar they came in contact with.  

Cas’ fingers trail from his navel back up his chest, tracing the line of the anti possession star on his pectoral, trailing along his collarbone to the hollow at the base of his neck.  It isn't until they've traced over his pulse point that Dean feels the hammering of his heart, eyes locked on Cas’ when they finally move up to meet his.

Fingertips trace the line of his jaw from his chin back to his ear, up over his temple into his hair, then down over his brow, and down the bridge of his nose.  

They brush gently along his lips, and when Dean’s mouth parts slightly to allow him a much needed breath, Cas’ thumb comes to rest on the corner of his mouth, the rest of his fingers folding gently under his chin.

“I think I want to kiss you,” Cas breathes.

“Okay.”  Dean’s too distracted by the warmth of Cas’ fingers to be more eloquent.  Cas leans forward, his hand cradling Dean’s face, and presses his lips to Dean’s.

He's kissing Cas.

_Holy shit._

Cas’ lips are drier than he expected, but they're warm, and Dean’s reminded that while Cas may be newly human, he's by no means ignorant.  Cas’ lips part slightly, taking Dean’s lower lip between them gently before releasing him to pull back.  

He kissed Cas.

And it was fucking _amazing._

“Are you okay?” Cas asked.

“Depends,” Dean sighed.  “Am I okay with what just happened?  Hell yes.”  His fingers move to the crystal hanging from his neck, gently rolling it between his fingers.  “Do I still have some shit to figure out?  Yeah, I do.”

“I understand this change may take an...adjustment period,” Cas agreed.  “I do not wish to make things uncomfortable by pursuing our physical relationship at the cost of our emotional one.”  The offhand way Cas talked about their _physical_ relationship set Dean blushing again.

“You must be exhausted,” Dean changed the subject, and to his relief Cas only hesitated a moment before letting it go, laying down under his covers, snuggling into his pillow.  Dean stood, turning off the light, and hesitated at the edge of the bed.  In the dim light leaking through underneath the door, Dean sees Cas roll to face him, pulling the sheets back on the empty side of the bed in invitation.

“Dean?” he asks into the quiet.  Dean takes a deep breath, quickly undoing his jeans, dropping them to the floor and climbing into Cas’ bed.  Cas’ sigh is full of contentment, and his fingers brush Dean’s arm one last time.  “Goodnight, Dean,” he says softly.

“Night, Cas.”

 ***

This is the photo:

And this is the artist's blog:

<http://destiel-fanart-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com/>


	12. 12. Tús Nua

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to wrap this up!
> 
> The past couple weeks have been quite awful for me, so I haven't been writing like I want to, sorry this has taken a while :(

_ Sam _

 

Sam had thought waking up to Ann in his bed that first morning after the spell, knowing she was human and  _ his _ was the happiest he’d ever be.  He was wrong, the next two weeks after were absolutely  _ incredible. _

There were no hunts on the radar, no world ending apocalypse to take care of... _ nothing.   _ Kevin left for his mom’s, but the rest of their family group simply lounged around the bunker, playing games, experimenting with food, laughing, and drinking.  They were  _ normal _ , or at least as close as two hunter brothers, their resident hacker, an ex-angel, and an ex-phoenix were going to be _. _

For the first time in his life, Sam wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop, he wasn't waiting for the next big disaster to come along and ruin this peace they'd found.  He was happy, and it was genuine and honest and it felt really  _ fucking  _ good.

He could see the change in his brother, too.  Dean was as relaxed as Sam had ever seen him, belly laughing, thoroughly enjoying his time in the kitchen and lounging around the bunker in pajamas.  Sam hadn't asked about...whatever had happened between his brother and Castiel, at least not yet.  He had been totally, utterly, surprised when he'd seen the gentle way Dean had cared for Cas that night, the lack of personal space between them and the almost caress of Dean's hands as he cleaned Cas’ wounds.  Not to mention the necklace of Cas’ grace that Dean  _ still  _ hadn't taken off, as far as Sam could tell.  After he'd gotten over the initial shock that his brother was interested in Cas, he began to realize that the connection between his brother and the angel had always been something  _ bigger _ .  Watching Dean completely and utterly fall apart when he got back from purgatory thinking he'd left Cas behind...it really should have opened Sam’s eyes to the possibility that his brother’s feelings weren’t exactly platonic.  With the trials and everything happening, it had just gotten too hard for Sam to focus on anything but the big picture.

Annika and Cas had spent some time together as well, talking about their newfound mortality.  Sam was glad they had each other, because there were some things Sam just couldn't relate to, and he knew Ann needed to talk about them with someone.  The first 24 hours had been hard on both her and Cas, adjusting and learning to compensate for what they no longer had, however it manifested.

Yep, for two weeks, the Winchester family life had been pretty damn near perfect.

The first week of October rolled around, bringing with it cooler weather.  Ann and Cas took a trip to the mall to shop for more clothes; Ann wanting to augment her wardrobe and Cas who  _ had  _ no wardrobe to speak of, aside from Dean’s old clothes.  While they were shopping, Sam and Dean made a run to the grocery store, the late afternoon sunlight warming Sam’s skin through the open car window as they drove home.  Dean had the radio blaring and was singing along, not as horribly has he usually did, and Sam chuckled to himself as he watched the expanse of Kansas farmland pass them by.

“What's so funny?” Dean asks.

“I dunno, I mean, look at us.  Running to the grocery store, someone waiting for us at home...we’re  _ normal _ .”

“I don't know about that, you are still freakishly tall,” Dean jabs playfully, winking at Sam.  Dean reaches over and turns the radio down a bit as his face grows thoughtful.  “You were right, all those years ago, Sammy.  Being normal isn't half bad.  I always just assumed it wasn't in the cards for me, and I'd made my peace with that, even came to enjoy the hunting life.  But now...I guess I get it.”  Dean turns onto the street that runs down to the garage entrance, almost smiling, and Sam decides to let the moment for teasing pass.

“Maybe we should go out, you know, on a double date?” Sam suggests, bracing himself for Dean’s reaction.  He's not disappointed, Dean chokes on air and flushes crimson, and Sam tries desperately hard not to laugh at his brother’s expense.  “It doesn't have to be somewhere fancy or anything,” Sam adds quickly, “just out of the bunker.”

“Guess I can ask Cas,” Dean mumbles, pulling the Impala into her parking space and killing the engine.  Sam can't help himself.

“First time, asking him out, right?  Need any pointers, some advice?”  Dean jabs him in the arm, grumpily muttering as he climbs out of the car, and Sam simply grins.

Once the groceries are put away, the sound of the door closing announces Ann and Cas’ return home from their trip.  Sam walks out to meet them at the door, stealing a quick kiss from a smiling Annika as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas says, smiling at him.  That's something Cas has been doing a lot more of, smiling.

“How was the trip?” Sam asks, glancing at the three oversized bags of clothes Cas was holding, to Annika’s one.

“I believe we were very successful,” she smiles knowingly at Cas.  Cas turns and walks off towards his room, and Sam wraps his arm around Ann’s shoulders.

“Do I want to know?” Sam asks.  

“I don't know,” she shrugs.  “Let's just say, I'm kinda jealous of your brother, just a little bit.”  

“You're right, I don't want to know,” Sam laughs.  “Speaking of my brother, I was thinking we could all go out to dinner tonight, like a double date?”  Sam follows as she walks towards her room to put away her clothes.

“Saving your brother the hassle of asking Cas out on their first date alone?” she teased.  

“Wow, am I that transparent?!” Sam wonders.  

“Only to me,” she assures him with a wink, going through her new purchases and laying them out in small piles on her bed.  Sam leans on her doorframe and watches her, and he knows he’s smiling like an idiot but he can’t find it in him to care.

“Sam!” Charlie’s voice echoes through the bunker hallway, and Sam steps out of Ann’s room to wave at her.  She bounces up, slightly breathless with a huge grin on her face, speaking in a rush before Sam can even ask her what’s going on.  “There’s going to be this huge midwest comic convention in Cleveland and some old hacker buddies of mine have gotten me a VIP pass and it’s going to be so incredible and I need to borrow a car but I’ll be back in a week or so but they’ve invited me LARPing and I’m not sure exactly how long the game is going to run-”

“Charlie,” Sam interrupts her gently when he figures she’s about to run out of oxygen.  “Have a great time,” he insists.  She beams at him and jumps on him, hugging him tightly before rushing back down the hallway, rambling about how she needs to pack.

“So, just the two couples in the bunker, then,” Ann chuckles from behind Sam.  

“Sounds like it,” he agrees.  She pauses, her face turning thoughtful.  

“You want to give your brother another leg up?” she asks after a moment.

“Let me guess,” Sam huffs a laugh, walking into her room and slipping his arms around her waist from behind.  “You want to go on a trip somewhere so my brother and Cas can… do things I really don’t need to think or know about.”

“I’d like to go see the coven before they move on,” she said, a serious note in her voice that makes Sam hold her tighter. 

“Do they move often?” he asks.

“No, actually,” she admits.  “But now that I’m human, the spell I helped them with, the one that hides them, will be wearing off.  They’ve got to find a new home, set up some new wards.”  Sam presses his lips to her hair, offering her comfort.

“I’d love to see them again,” he agrees.  She sighs, stepping out of his hold to go through her clothes.

“First things first,” she insisted.  “We’ve got two guys to plan a date for.”

“What about us?” Sam scoffed good naturedly.  She rolled her eyes.

“ _ We  _ don’t need help.  Your brother needs all the help he can get.”

“What about Cas?” Sam pointed out.  “I’m pretty sure that Dean’s his first...well everything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him.”  Something in her voice makes Sam curious, but before he can ask she’s pushing him out of her room.  “Come on, I gotta get changed,” she insists, closing the door behind him.  As Sam walks back through the hallway towards the library, he passes Dean who looks slightly shell shocked.

“You okay?” Sam asks, trying not to laugh.

“I think I just asked Cas out on a date,” Dean mumbles.  Sam claps him on the shoulder fondly.

“You brave soul,” he teases.  Dean scoffs, shrugging Sam’s hand off of him, his cheeks burning red as he storms off down the hallway.

 

 

Later that night, Sam and Dean are waiting in the map room for their ‘dates’, which makes Sam happy to the point he can’t even get annoyed by Dean’s pacing.  He and Dean are both dressed in their best clothes, barring their fed suits, which basically meant slacks and button ups devoid of holes or stains.  Dean keeps tugging at his clothes uncomfortably, and Sam is just about to say something when Annika walks out of the hallway.  She’s not wearing anything too fancy, a simple, deep purple strapless cotton dress that hugged her frame before billowing out from the waist down.  Her hair is done up, exposing the slope of her neck and shoulders, and Sam grins when she walks straight up to him, twirling for effect before dropping into his lap.

“Well, hello handsome,” she giggles, squirming slightly when Sam drops a soft kiss to her shoulder.

“Hello yourself,” he hums.

“God, you two better not be like this all night,” Dean groans.  Annika flips him off, and Sam shrugs at his brother.  Dean opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can his eyes go wide and he snaps his mouth shut.  Sam turns and looks to see Cas walking out of the hallway, dressed in dark wash jeans and a royal blue button up, the edge of a white undershirt peeking out from behind the top couple buttons.  His hair is styled, yet still artfully messy, and he’s shaved, and judging by the proud look on Annika’s face she had something to do with his grooming.  

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” Cas says awkwardly when he realizes all three of them are looking at him.  

“It’s fine,” Dean coughs.  “You’re, uh...you’re good.  Let’s get going,” Dean stammers, turning towards the door with the keys to the Impala in his hand.  Annika stands and walks over to Cas, whispering something Sam can’t hear, and Cas smiles at her, nodding at Sam when he looks over at him.

“Hey Cas, looking good,” Sam says with a smile.  Cas looks down at his outfit, shrugging slightly.

“It’s comfortable enough.”  Ann slips her arm through Cas’, leading him towards the door.  

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re quite the looker, Castiel,” she assures him.  Cas smiles bashfully, and Sam’s heart swells with a little more love for Annika.

Dean drives them into town to the Red Robin he and Sam had decided on for dinner.  It was burgers, Dean’s comfort food, but had enough options to make Sam happy.  They order a round of beers, and once the waiter has taken their order they settle into easy conversation about the merits of cheeseburgers.  Sam is on the side of good but not necessary, and Dean of course likens them to a religious experience.  Cas seems to be seriously considering the merits of both arguments, and Ann spends the whole time rolling her eyes.  Once their appetizer is brought out, the conversation turns serious.

“I spoke with Naomi yesterday,” Cas says calmly.  Dean tenses, shoving an onion ring in his mouth angrily.

“About you falling?” Sam wonders.  

“Yes,” Cas nods.  “It seems that things in heaven are calming down.  She just put down a small rebellion by an angel named Bartholomew, and Metatron is still safely in prison.”

“Heaven has a prison?” Ann wonders out loud.  

“Of course,” Cas nods, like everyone knows that.

“So, are they going to leave you be?” Sam asks.

“I believe so.  Most of the angels see my fall as punishment enough for my transgressions, and the others understand my choice.  And Naomi for now seems content knowing where the angel tablet is.”

“For now,” Dean repeats.  Cas’ face falls slightly.

“Well, I'm counting it as a win,” Sam jumps in, munching on an onion ring.  Cas smiles at him gratefully, and Dean shrugs.  

For the rest of dinner the conversation steers clear of anything serious, mostly it's Dean telling stories about some of his favorite hunts, and Ann telling stories about some of the great moments in history she got to witness.  Sam couldn't help but see it as the two of them trying to one up each other, and as such he didn't step in and correct Dean when he'd over exaggerate a bit on a story.  Once they'd finished eating, Dean drove them to a local park where an arts festival was going on, Ann’s idea.  Even now that it was after dark, the place is still bustling with people.  Booths were set up all up and down the grassy fields, and music was playing from somewhere, floating over the murmur of conversation.  Cas was instantly transfixed by a display of large and small glass sculptures, glittering in the lamps the vendor had set up.

“I remember the first time humanity created art for the sake of art,” Cas sighs wistfully, fingers gently examining a small glass bird.  “It was entirely unexpected, and so beautiful…”  Sam glances at Dean, his brother’s fondness for the angel obvious.

“I want to go check out those dream catchers,” Annika said, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him along.  “We’ll catch up with you two in a bit!” she called over her shoulder to Dean.  Sam huffed a laugh, sliding her hand into his as they walked.

“You're really trying hard to help my brother out with Cas, aren't you?”

“He needs it,” she grouses fondly, stopping at the dream catcher booth.  The vendor glances at them but doesn't say anything, continuing to weave on a half finished catcher in their lap.  “You know, it's been two weeks and all Dean has summoned up the gumption to do is kiss poor Cas?”

“Well, as far as I know Dean hasn't ever dated a guy before, so he's probably freaking out a little.  Also, how do you even know?” he adds.  Ann draws her fingers slowly over the ring of a brown and green catcher.

“Cas came to me the other day, looking for advice I think.  I explained to him that you boys were both raised to see emotion as a weakness, which is why it's so hard for Dean to show it.”  Sam blushes at her observation as she speaks to the vendor about purchasing a small blue and white catcher, no bigger than three inches across, with black feathers hanging on the strings.  

“Cut Dean a little slack, we've had a pretty rough life,” Sam points out.  She finishes her purchase and tucks the catcher away in her purse, turning back to Sam with a soft smile.

“I know, and I told Cas as much.”  She slipped her arm into Sam’s as they continued down the line of booths.  “I just think some time alone will be good for them, I think Dean’s too wound up right now simply because you're here, and he's gotta put on his game face for his little brother.”  Sam nods in agreement.  Dean had spent one night semi-drunkenly explaining to Sam that Cas, as an angel, didn't have a gender, and it's the angel he'd come to care about, not the male vessel.  Dean was struggling to overcome being raised by a father who would have hated seeing his son date a man, and Sam knew from experience how hard it was to get out from under John Winchester’s shadow.

They spend an hour or so wandering the displays before making their way back to the Impala.  Dean and Cas are already there, waiting for them inside the car.

“Took you lovebirds long enough,” Dean groused as Sam opened the door for the backseat.  Sam was about to snap back, but a quick glance at Dean’s tousled hair and Cas’ flustered face told Sam all he needed to know.

“If you need more time, we can go find-” Sam was cut off by the roar of the engine coming to life, and he leaned back in the seat and smiled at Ann, who rolled her eyes but was unable to hide her own smile.

 

 

The next morning, Sam stirred from sleep into wide wakefulness way too early, carefully sliding out from Ann’s embrace and leaving her room.  He padded down the darkened hallways to the bathroom to relieve himself, then made his way to the kitchen, where, to his surprise, Cas was sitting at the table.  

“Cas?  What are you doing up?” Sam asks, getting a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge.

“I, uh, still have trouble sleeping sometimes,” he admits, turning a mug of what smelled like hot chocolate in his hands.

“Sleeping in general, or nightmares?” Sam prods gently.  The look on Cas’ face tells him it's the latter.  “Anything you want to talk about?” 

“I have spoken with Dean about them,” Cas admits.  “I've only been sleeping for mere months, they're still a new experience for me.”  Sam sips at his water, stunned to realize it had only been about six months since everything had gone down with the trials, and Cas had been in a coma for the first two.

“Speaking from experience,” Sam says gently, “I get it.  I mean, even after 8 years, sometimes I wake up and I can  _ feel  _ the heat from the fire, when Jess died.”  Cas looks up at him curiously.

“You still care about her, even though now you have feelings for Annika?” he wonders.  

“Of course I do,” Sam shrugged.  “I'll always love her, but that doesn't make my feelings for Ann any less than what they are.”  Cas sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair in a very human gesture of frustration.

“Can I ask you... an uncomfortable question?”

“Sure, Cas.”

“Do you...do you think Dean’s hesitance to share intimacy with me is due to my physical body?”  Sam coughs on the water he was currently drinking, setting the cup down carefully.  “Do you think there's a chance he could see past it?” Cas continues.

“Cas,” Sam interrupts, blushing when Cas looks up at him expectantly.  “I think the fact that Dean has been honest enough with himself to admit he feels something for you is a sign that he's already seeing past it.”  He runs his fingers through his hair.  “Annika and I are going to see some friends of hers, we’ll be gone for a while.  And with the two of you alone, I think that might help.”

“You think Dean will be more amenable without you around?”  Cas’ eyes narrow curiously.

“I know so,” Sam chuckles.  “He may never admit it, but he'll always worry about what I think of him.  Even if I tell him I'm beyond happy for the two of you, he’s going to second guess himself.”  Shuffling footsteps approach the kitchen, and Ann wanders into view, adorably sleep rumpled as she moves across the room to drop into Sam’s lap.

“The fuck you both awake for?” she murmured into Sam’s neck where she'd nestled her head.

“I was just heading to bed,” Cas said, pushing himself to his feet with a smile.  “Thank you, Sam, I think...I think you're right.”  He turns and walks from the room, and Sam wraps an arm around Ann’s waist.

“Did I wake you?” he wonders.  

“Don't think so,” she shrugs.  “Might just be eager to get going.”  Sam finishes his glass of water, and Ann stands up, pulling Sam along behind her back to the bedrooms.

They pack quickly, and even after they're ready to go, breakfast eaten and coffee drank, Dean still hasn't been out to the kitchen.  Sam writes him a note about where they're going and how long, taping it to the coffee pot and walking out to the garage to join Ann in the truck.

“Dean still sleeping?” she asks, a suggestive lilt to her voice Sam is decidedly  _ not  _ going to think about.

“He’ll call if he's worried,” Sam shrugs, climbing in the truck and getting them moving.

The trip is filled with easy conversation, Ann reclined in the passenger seat next to him, music playing, and a soft fall breeze ruffling his hair through the open window.  There's no urgency this time, no tension between them of unspoken secrets like before.  Sam feels completely free and relaxed with her now, he trusts her completely, and it's a  _ good  _ feeling.

They make two overnight stops on their way to the coven, not as a precaution this time, but because they could.  It's the closest thing to a vacation Sam's ever been on and he's going to take advantage of it while he can.  

They drive into the woods on the third day, and Aislin is waiting at the end of the driveway for them with a smile.  Sam kills the engine and grabs their bags as Ann hurries to the older woman, wrapping her up in a tight hug.

“ _ Mo leanbh, _ ” Aislin sighs happily.

“It's finally over,” Annika sobs into the woman’s shoulder.  Sam hangs back, not wanting to interrupt their moment, but Aislin catches his eye and waves him closer.  Ann releases her and steps back, smiling warmly at Sam as Aislin walks up and places her hands on his cheeks.

“ _ Go raibh maith agat,” _ she grins, pulling Sam into a bone crushing hug.  Sam gasps for air, chuckling as she releases him.

“I really didn't do anything,” he insists.

“You cared, and sometimes that's all anyone needs to do,” the older woman insisted.  “Come on, you two, everyone's ready to get this party started.”  As they walked through the woods, Ann moved to Sam’s side, slipping her fingers through his and squeezing tight.  

They come into view of the village, and immediately a huge crowd descends on them, tugging Annika away from Sam to hug and congratulate her, before coming up to Sam to thank and embrace him as well.  The young girl from before, Breda, shows up to take his bags away towards the main hall, smirking at Sam almost fondly.  A large number of tables have been set up outside surrounding the fire pit, and a huge, bright blaze brightens the area even more than the afternoon sun.  Sam notices that the torches that had run the perimeter of the glade are gone, and some of the dwellings near the edge look abandoned compared to the last time they were here.  He doesn't get to ask about it until they're most of the way through dinner, and a lull in the conversation allows Sam the chance to speak to Aislin.

“Annika mentioned that the spell you worked with her fire was fading?” he wonders.  The woman nods, her eyes sweeping the glade fondly.

“It is.  Her magic is no longer in this world, so the spell is no longer binding.  We’ll find a new home, a place unaccustomed to magic.  We’ll be fine.”  Sam nods, watching as Ann talks animatedly with some of the younger children near the edge of the fire.

“She's not what she was when I first met her,” Sam muses quietly.  The older woman smiles knowingly but doesn't say anything.

 

 

They spend the next three days with the coven, helping them pack and prepare for their move, and Sam can't help but feel like it's his first vacation he's ever taken.  They give him some useful warding spells to add to the ones they have at the bunker, and he also receives some seeds for different herbs used in medicinal magic to grow back at the bunker.

Late at night, after eating way too much food, he and Ann would stay up talking.  Mostly Ann, as she had a lot more history to tell.  Every new thing Sam learned about her made him love her more, even the stories that left her sobbing in his arms.  She wasn't innocent by any means, but neither was Sam, his choice to ignore Dean’s warnings about Ruby and start the apocalypse the tip of a very bloody iceberg.  But they found comfort in each other, someone to share their dark burdens and help them see past it to the good they've done.

They'd just watched the sun set on the third day.  Sam stripped down to his boxers, climbing into bed while Ann was in the bathroom brushing her teeth.  Something was on Sam’s mind, something that had him so distracted he hardly noticed when Annika joined him in bed.  

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, tucking into his side and resting her cheek on his chest.  Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

“Don’t know,” he hummed.  She tangled her limbs with his, smooth skin brushing against the rough hair on his leg.  “Sometimes I just feel like I'm going to wake up and this will all have been some djinn dream or something.”  She starts to trace mindless patterns across his pecs with her finger, her touch feather light and yet grounding. 

“You locked away the demons, Sam,” she hummed.  “Is it really so hard to believe that you're reaping the rewards?”  

_ Holy shit. _

In theory he knew that, he was well aware that the reason there were no cases, next to no supernatural activity, was because the demons were locked in hell.  He's just never thought about what that would  _ mean  _ for him.  He'd never quite put together how that would change  _ his _ life for the better.  He'd been worried about the world, about saving other people, the greater good, he'd never spared a thought for himself.

“I didn't do it for me,” he mumbles.

“I know,” she hummed.  “Which is why you put me to shame.  All I've done with my life is worry about  _ me, _ about doing this spell for my own sake, and here you are mister selfless Sammy.”  He could hear the bitterness in her voice and pulled her even closer, pressing his lips to her hair.

“The amount of monsters you killed over the centuries, what you did for this witches… you’ve done good, too.”  She pushes away from him, leaning on her elbow and meeting his eyes with a soft smile.

“You trying to butter me up, Winchester?” she teased.  Sam went to say something, but the sound of his last name on her lips gave him pause.  She must have seen something on his face, because her smile faded and she sat up, naturally drawing into herself.  “What?”

“You don't have a last name, do you?” he says carefully.  She shakes her head, a wary look on her face.  Sam swallows down some unexpected nerves before continuing.  “Well, if you'd like, you could always...use mine.”  

She blinks a few times as her face goes completely blank, and Sam inwardly kicks himself for even bringing it up.  The fuck was wrong with him?!  They'd hardly known each other for a month, and here he was spouting off a proposal like a lunatic. 

“Sam…”

“I'm sorry, I know it's too soon.  Just...forget I said anything,” he blurts quickly, afraid of the rejection he’d hear if she kept talking.

“Sam,” she starts again, undeterred.  “You’re right, it is too soon.”  Pain twists in his chest and he closes his eyes.  There's a heart stopping moment of silence before she continues talking.  “This coven has a...unique tradition,” she says slowly.  “It started centuries ago when it was even more important to hide.  The idea is that, something shared in the quiet, in the secret silence would be stronger, harder to break.”  The soft touch of her fingers on his face makes him open his eyes, and the emotion on her face softens the hurt.  “It would mean so much to me if...if you'd share that with me, Sam.”  

So she didn't want a traditional wedding, but she did want  _ him _ .

He smiles, pulling her in for a breathless kiss.

“What do we do?” he asks.  She grins, reaching over to the side table to grab his phone.  

“Call your brother, we’ll need him.  I'll go talk to Aislin.”  She hopped out of bed, moving for the door before pausing to look back at him.  “Sam...I love you,” she says simply, disappearing out into the hall before he can say anything back.  With a grin, he pulled up Dean’s contact and called him.  It rang a few times before going to voicemail, and Sam hoped he didn't sound too crazy when he spoke.

“Dean, get to the address I left you.  I...I think I'm getting married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I have to plan a wedding...


	13. 13. Tribulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I had the worst month ever in July, and wasn't really up for writing/editing/anything :( But now it's done and I'm going to get it up while I have a short break from Gishwhes madness. :) 
> 
> Oh, and...Whatever you do, don't listen to Tribulation by Matt Maeson ;)

_ Dean _

 

Dean wakes up when his bedroom door opens, Cas attempting to slip back inside the room quietly.  He watched as Cas slipped his robe off, crawling into bed carefully with nothing but pajama pants on.

“You okay?” Dean mumbles from his pillow.

“Just another dream, I’m fine,” Cas insists.  Cas had been having nightmares over the past week, memories of things he'd done as an angel coming back to wrack his human soul with guilt now that he had no grace as a buffer.  It was something Dean was very familiar with, and he helped as best he could to get Cas through them.  Part of that help was sharing his bed, Cas hadn't spent the night away from Dean’s side since the night he officially “fell”.  For the past two weeks, they'd taken comfort in each other's physical presence and that had been enough.  

Cuddling was new to Dean, but he had to admit that waking up to Cas pressed to his chest, warm and heavy, was a comfort he hadn't realized he'd needed.  

“Sam and Annika are going away for a while,” Cas said, settling into bed on his back next to Dean.  “He said they'd be back in about a week.”  Dean grunted in acknowledgement.

Then his eyes went wide as adrenaline fully woke him up and set his heart pounding.  

They were alone.  

Totally and completely  _ alone _ for a whole week.  And knowing Sam he probably did it on purpose.  

Cas shifted next to him, rolling on his side to face Dean, his hand running up over Dean’s chest to rest on his sternum.  Dean’s hand moves up to meet it, fingers lacing with Cas’, the sentimental gesture that used to make him uncomfortable becoming habit with Cas.  He could tell there was something on Cas’ mind simply from his tight hold on Dean’s fingers, and Dean had a feeling he knew exactly what it was.

Since that first tentative kiss, he and Cas had shared dozens more.  Soft and gentle in the morning when rousing each other for breakfast.  Slow and curious as Cas learned the push and pull of a good kiss.  And a couple times that had left Dean panting for air and hard as granite in his pants.  Still, something always held them back from progressing into anything more.  At first Dean thought it might have been the stubble against his chin or the hard line of Cas’ chest that he wasn't accustomed too, but he figured out pretty quick those things could just as easily get him hot and bothered.  No, this hesitation had nothing to do with Cas’ body.

It was all Dean.  Again.  He was holding them back. 

Before they'd gone to sleep last night, soft kisses had escalated into full on making out, Dean pressing Cas into the mattress.  Cas had practically started clawing at Dean, desperate for something more, and when Dean had broken away a heartbreaking whine had escaped Cas’ throat.  Dean’s hesitance was hurting Cas, hurting  _ them _ , and he hated it.

Dean isn't sure how much time goes by, laying in bed simply holding hands, and he's not sure if either of them get any more sleep.  The sound of the garage door closing behind Sam’s truck makes the bunker feel oppressively quiet, and it starts to physically crush Dean.

“Dean?”  Cas’ voice, even at an almost whisper, is jolting in the silence.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I'm afraid I'm at a loss,” Cas admits, sitting up next to him, and Dean immediately misses his warmth.  

“I know,” Dean sighs.  Cas’ brow is tight with worry and confusion, and Dean feels guilt twist in his gut.

“Do you not wish to further our intimacy?” Dean wasn't sure if Cas meant physically or emotionally, and he realized for the first time in his life that the two things weren't separate concepts, not when it came to Cas.  

“Of course I do, Cas,” he sighs.  “God, I do, I just…”  He doesn't know how to finish so he just stops talking, his hand resting on Cas’ forearm, because he needs physical contact right now.

“Are you concerned about my physical inexperience?” Cas asks, then with beautiful frankness, continues, “because I have seen a fair variety of pornographic materials at this point, and have...experimented.”  

“I- you-what?!” Dean blurts, everything else forgotten in light of Cas admitting he watches  _ porn _ … and  _ experiments. _  Cas’ cheeks are flushed, his gaze dropping bashfully. 

“When I first woke, as my human soul was growing accustomed to its permanent home, the physical sensations that came with it were new to me, and at times overwhelming.”  Dean’s imagination isn't doing him any favors as he pictures Cas essentially going through accelerated puberty three doors down from him.  “Charlie directed me to a website to...help alleviate those sensations, and I got...curious.”  Silence hangs between them as Dean tries to process all of this.  In fact, it had crossed his mind that Cas was, for all intents and purposes, a virgin, but he hadn't seriously worried about it until just  _ now _ .

“Cas, that's-”

“Please, Dean,” Cas whimpered, climbing over top of him and settling in his lap, “I...I know I'm still new to this, to emotions, but I feel like… like the closer we become, the further you are from me.”  Cas’ eyes are pleading, vulnerable in a way Dean hates seeing on his face, but  _ how  _ does he explain this to Cas?  He sits up slowly, his arm wrapping around Cas’ waist when he goes to move away.  This here, a half naked Cas in his lap, his body pressed close, is more physically intimate than anything they've shared so far, and a small gasp escapes Cas’ lips.

“Cas, this isn't about sex, physically anyway,” Dean sighs, finally finding his voice.  “I got past that a while ago.  And I want you, so  _ fucking  _ much,” he gasps, lowering his head to rest against Cas’ chest.  Cas trembles slightly as he rests his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, it's weight and heat comforting as Dean attempts to parse his thoughts.  “Cas, I can't… I just don't think I can ever love you right.”  

And there it is.

Everything wrong with him in one sentence.

“Dean-”

“I've tried before, Cas, and failed miserably.  And those people, they didn’t mean half as much to me as you do.”  He can feel Cas’ human heartbeat under his forehead, and his heart gives a painful lurch in his chest.

“I wasn't aware there was a right or wrong way to love someone.”  Cas’ voice is soft and thoughtful, and Dean squeezes him tighter.

“Cas, I've been through so much fucking trauma in my life it's a wonder I'm still functional,” Dean sighs.  “I have issues with emotions, as in I pretend they don't exist.  I drink too much, that's for damn sure.  I'm not destined for a quiet life, or a long one, and you... _ fuck, _ you deserve so much more than me.”

“You care for me so much, you'd rather I leave, believing I'll find something better, than remain here with you?” Cas asks.  It hurts, and the grip Dean has on Cas’ waist with both of his arms belies his words.

“I do, Cas.  Because I'll never…I’ll never be good enough...”  Dean’s words die in his throat.  After a beat of silence, Cas huffs a small laugh, and Dean in his confusion and hurt finally looks up at him.  Cas’ eyes are a bright, electric blue as they meet his, and an impossibly tender smile tugs at his lips.  One of his hands catches Dean’s chin, keeping Dean from looking away.

“Dean, have you already forgotten purgatory?” he asks.  “Do you still not see?”  Dean frowns, and Cas’ fingers trail down his chest to the grace dangling from Dean’s neck.  “I felt I was flawed, broken, and I deserved that place.  And I tried everything in my power to get  _ you  _ out, because you didn't deserve it.  Because you were worth saving where I wasn't.”  

“Cas…” Dean trails off as the parallels hit him, dropping his face to nuzzle into Cas’ neck, hiding his emotions in his soap scented skin.

“I do not expect anything more from you than companionship,” Cas continues, “and I think you're expecting too much of yourself.”  A knot untangles in Dean’s chest, one he didn't realize was there, as Cas continues to talk.  “Our lives have been filled with so much loneliness and pain, I think we both simply need someone to share the burden.  The human ideal of what a partner should be is overly idealistic, and I don't think it's what either of us want.”  

“So you're okay if I can't do the whole white picket fence thing?” Dean half laughs.  Cas’ hands pull him close, his fingers gentle yet possessive.  

“This, you being here, that's all I'll ever need,” Cas hums.  “I'm sorry I...I thought this was about our physical relationship.  I should have-”

“Cas, don't apologize, not after that beautiful ass speech,” Dean sighed with a half smile, lips brushing gently over Cas’ collarbone.  Relief has helped him relax his grip, his fingers rubbing gently along the lower curve of Cas’ spine.  “Insecurity is one of my flaws I was mentioning.”

“And I wouldn't change a single one of those flaws, because they make you  _ you _ .”  Cas’ words carry so much weight, in spite of the quiet way he says them, and Dean, unable to voice what he's feeling, simply pulls Cas into a kiss.  If he bites a little more than usual, or squeezes too hard, so be it.  Cas doesn't seem to mind.

Dean just kisses Cas for a bit, ignoring the way Cas’ hands are cataloguing Dean’s skin, the way his own hands are trying to map all of Cas’ body.  Honestly, he could just sit there making out with Cas forever and be content, but Cas had crawled into his lap with a purpose, and now that Dean was done fucking around with his stupid emotions, Cas seemed to remember what that was.  

Cas starts to roll his hips, experimental and tentative, but getting bolder as Dean’s half hardness starts to push back.  Goosebumps spread down Dean’s arms as his heart rate escalates.  Sex had never made Dean this nervous, even when he’d fumbled his way through losing his virginity, he'd been more excited than worried.  

But then again, he could hardly remember that girl.   _ This  _ was  _ Cas. _

Cas’ right hand slides into Dean’s hair, tugging gently as he tilts his head to lick deeper into Dean’s mouth.  Dean breaks the kiss for a much needed hit of oxygen, panting against Cas’ lips.

“You said you had, uh, experimented,” Dean gasped, palms dragging over the skin of Cas’ hips.  “What did that entail, exactly?”  Cas smiles shyly, way too fucking cute for this situation.

“If there was something in the video that peaked my interest, I simply mimicked it as best I could,” Cas explained in that amazingly blunt way of his.  “I admit I have been feeling slightly eager to try some things with you,” Cas admits, blushing slightly.  Dean swallows a groan as his blood starts to thrum in his veins.

“What kinds of things?” he asks breathily.  

“Well, the only thing I have not been able to approximate is...being inside someone.”  To his credit, Cas seems to understand the gravity of what he's asking, hands a gentle reassurance against Dean’s scalp as his nails slide towards the back of Dean’s neck.  Dean feels heat spread through his body, tingling in a way that overshadows his nerves.

He's been with a lot of women, and he's done some...not so traditional things.  While he's never been-  _ shit _ he can't even say it to himself- he's had a few women bold enough to stroke his prostate while blowing him.  He knows how good it can feel, but Dean Winchester has never relinquished that kind of control to  _ anyone _ .

“If this is too much…” Cas starts, giving Dean a way out.

“Cas, I- it's okay,” he gasps.  “I trust you.”  He knows the words are true the moment he speaks them, and his whole body relaxes.  He trusts Cas, completely, knows Cas won't use this against him, won't hurt him, in any sense of the word.  Cas’ whole body shudders, and he renews his grinding motion against Dean’s lap, lips and tongue fiercely attacking Dean’s mouth.  It takes Dean a moment to get with the program but soon he's moving counter to Cas’ motion, kissing back as good as he's getting while his hands dig possessively into Cas’ skin.

About now is when Dean would be taking control, rolling his partner underneath him and starting to up the ante.  Instead, he finds himself relaxing, letting Cas lay him back against the pillow as he dips his head to explore Dean’s neck with his lips.  It's...nice, and Dean allows himself to sink deeper into the mattress, letting himself simply float on the incredible feeling of Cas’ mouth on his skin and his knee between Dean’s legs.  Slowly, Cas peels Dean’s shirt off, caressing every inch of exposed skin reverently, sighing happily when the fabric is finally tossed to the floor.  If it weren't for the obscene tents in both of their cotton pajamas, Dean might have called it sweet.

“You're so… there aren't any words big enough,” Cas sighs.

“You're not so bad yourself,” Dean huffs, smiling unashamedly up at Cas.  Those blue eyes darken slightly as Cas leans forward, sliding down Dean’s legs so he can attach his mouth to his chest, kissing a line down his sternum before sliding to one of his nipples, sucking gently.  Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and he threads his hand encouragingly into Cas’ hair, muscles twitching as Cas rolls his tongue over the sensitive flesh.   _ Fuck  _ why had Dean waited so long, again?!  For a guy who's never had a partner, Cas was pretty fucking talented with his mouth.  Cas moves to the other side of Dean’s chest, mirroring his actions, and once he’s satisfied he began to slide lower again.  Cas seems fascinated with Dean’s stomach, nipping gently at his soft skin just to watch the muscles jump and bunch.  Dean was about to tell him to move the fuck along when, without warning, Cas bent to nuzzle against his crotch, closed lips and chin sliding along Dean’s length.  

“May I?” he asks, his breath a moist heat over Dean’s cock.  Dean nods, unable to get enough air in his lungs to speak.  Cas tugs at the cotton pants, sliding them off of Dean’s legs and tossing them to the floor, and when his eyes rake over Dean’s body Dean suddenly feels exposed, fisting his hands in the sheets to keep from covering himself.  “You're so, so-” Cas gasps, hands mapping Dean’s thighs and hips as he moves back over him.  He finally mumbles a word, deep and resonant, and Dean feels a new flush creep up his cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment and a whole lot to do with his libido.

“What was that?” he asked.  Cas leans in to kiss Dean gently.

“Enochian.  It's the only word big enough I could find that comes close to describe you.”  Dean releases the sheets to tug gently at Cas’ hair, kissing him for no other reason than to shut him up.  As they kiss, Cas wiggles out of his pajamas, and when he comes to rest over Dean’s body again Dean can't help but moan as bare skin touches bare skin.

“ _ Fuck,  _ Cas,” he gasps against Cas’ chin, his hips thrusting upwards on instinct.  “I need you, now,” he practically begs, but he can't find it in himself to care.  Cas nods, pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead for a moment before pulling away to sit back on his heels.  Dean fumbles in his side drawer and manages to find his bottle of lube without much difficulty.  His fingers brush the condoms and he hesitates.  “I don't, uh, I don't have any STD’s,” he blurts, blushing from his chest to his hairline.  “And I'm gonna assume you don't either?”  Cas shakes his head.  “I, uh, well, suiting up isn't really necessary, then,” he mutters.  Cas reaches out and takes the bottle from him.

“If you're okay without the added lubrication, I would very much like there to be nothing between us,” Cas says in that chill as fuck way of his.  Dean feels the air pushed from his lungs and shuts the drawer in response.  Cas almost smiles, then he's scooting down in between Dean’s legs, gently nudging them apart with his knees, and Dean simply tucks his feet up onto the mattress, bending his knees and opening himself up further.  He closes his eyes against the vulnerable feeling, but they snap open again at the first exploratory touch from Cas’ lubed fingers.

“You're okay?” Dean blurts suddenly.  “I mean, you know how to, uh…”

“I have penetrated myself before, Dean, yes.”   _ Fucking hell. _  “Please, I will be cautious, but tell me if I hurt you?”  The innocent concern in his voice is too fucking adorable for an ex angel so Dean just nods again, afraid that if he attempted to speak it would just come out an undignified squeak.  Cas’ fingers continue their journey, gentle pressure on Dean’s muscles until he grew accustomed to the sensation and relaxed.  There's slightly more pressure and then Cas has a finger inside him and  _ fuck _ this is happening,  _ holy shit this is happening.   _ The digit slides until it's knuckle deep, stretching Dean in that strange but almost familiar way, and as he waits for Dean to adjust he leans over his cock, licking from base to tip slowly.

“ _ Fuck _ , Cas,” he gasps, his eloquence leaving much to be desired.  Slowly, Cas starts to work his finger in and out, continuing to keep Dean’s cock occupied with licks and kisses.  His muscles finally relax enough around the intrusion to start enjoying it, and sensing the change, Cas adds a little more lube and then his finger is gone, replaced by the blunt press of two fingers.  It's infuriating how  _ good  _ Cas is at this, how focused he is on what he's doing, while Dean is trembling and unable to string two thoughts together.  When Dean’s body accepts the intrusion again, he starts to feel it, that weird  _ good  _ fullness, where the burn and the discomfort subside and he starts to  _ want  _ something more.  Cas takes the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth as he starts to scissor his fingers, stretching him further as he sucks Dean down.  “I don't even want to know why you're so damn good at this,” Dean moans, one hand twisted in the sheets, the other sliding into Cas’ hair.  An amused hum comes from Cas’ throat, vibrating around him just the right way and Dean’s hips buck up on their own.  Cas pulls off him, stilling his hand and Dean collapses back against the sheets, gasping for air.

“Okay?” Cas asks, his voice completely fucked out and Dean nods, panting for breath.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good,” he grunts, and Cas slides three fingers in, catching Dean off guard and making him cry out into the dark room.  It burned, the stretch much more intense, and Dean pants for breath as Cas stills briefly.  Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Dean nods.  Cas’ spare hand runs gently over Dean’s hips and stomach as he bends to lavish more attention on Dean’s cock.  Dean doesn't care that Cas is sloppy, it feels good enough to distract him from the stretch and burn until- “ _ Fuck!!”  _  Cas hums, pleased with himself as he finds Dean’s prostate.  “C-Cas,” he stammers, as Cas’ fingers continue to massage the small bundle of nerves, “you gotta stop.”

“Did I hurt you?” Cas asks, stopping everything all at once, his fingers still inside him.

“No, no, I just...I need you  _ now _ .”

“Oh,” Cas breathes, slightly surprised, like he had forgotten the endgame of all this prep.  The idea makes Dean smile, scrubbing a hand over his face, and when he looks back down at Cas he's smiling as well, small but beautiful.  “Yes, of course, Dean.”  He gets to his knees, hand still in place, and when he grabs the lube with his free hand, he pauses.

“What is it?” Dean asks, nudging Cas gently with his foot.

“I would very much like to see you for this, but I understand it can be more comfortable for you from behind,” Cas says calmly.  

“Okay, I have a feeling dirty talking isn't something you'd be good at,” Dean huffed, hiding his blush behind his hand.  “I want to see you too, Cas,” he admits before he loses his nerve.  

“Thank you,” Cas exhales.  He lubes himself up, and Dean can't help but watch, getting his first real view of everything Cas has to offer and nerves start to buzz in his belly.  Cas leans over him, gently urging his legs up and apart, and Dean’s suddenly overwhelmed and on the verge of telling Cas to stop.  Then he meets Cas’ eyes, and he feels  _ safe, _ and that's a feeling Dean never thought he'd feel with another person.  

“Please, Cas,” he breathes into the space between them.  

Ever so slowly, Cas leans into him, pausing when Dean’s breath catches, the tendons in his throat pulling taut as he throws his head back, the most beautiful moan escaping him as he bottoms out.

“ _ Dean _ …” he gasps, his breath hitching in the most gorgeous way.  Dean slides his hand over Cas’ cheek, wrapping around the back of his neck, just trying to breathe.  There’s some burn to the stretch, the angle slightly awkward like Cas had predicted, but the way Cas’ eyes are shining at him Dean wouldn't do this any other way.

“I'm good, Cas,” he nods, smiling reassuringly.  Cas takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out and pushing back in, adjusting his knees and his angle to find what works best for them both.  Dean doesn't bother to try and stifle any of his noises, letting them encourage Cas as he finds his rhythm.

So help him Dean had never used the term  _ making love  _ in his life but that's exactly what Cas is doing.  Every movement, every sound,  _ everything  _ Cas did spoke of so much open adoration for Dean, he feels himself being swept away by it.  One hand is wrapped in Cas’ hair, the other digging into his back to pull him close, every brush of Cas against his prostate sending electric charges up his spine.  The image Cas makes is a beautiful one, all muscle and sweat and flushed skin, his eyes dark and his jaw slack.  

Cas starts muttering, some soft praises in English, and some in what Dean can only assume is enochian.  

“I take back...the dirty talk comment…” Dean gasps with a small laugh.  Cas smirks at him, snapping his hips a bit faster and effectively shutting Dean up.  He continues to speak in enochian, his deep voice sending shivers vibrating through Dean, until Dean can't take it anymore.  He guides Cas’ hand to his own cock, and as Cas starts to work him, he starts to lose his own rhythm.

He speaks a single word in enochian, powerful and demanding, and Dean’s thrown into his orgasm, nails biting into Cas’ back and legs locking around his waist as his body seizes up.  Cas groans as Dean spasms around his cock, rolling his hips a few more times until he comes as well, Dean’s name on his lips.

He collapses onto Dean, sweaty bodies still tied together, and Dean starts to feel the discomfort from all the excess bodily fluids, but he doesn't let Cas move.  He wants to savor being attached to Cas for just a little longer, no matter how unbelievably corny it is, he feels complete, for the first time in his life.

“Dean, we should clean up,” Cas says gently, pressing a few kisses against Dean’s neck.

“M’kay,” Dean sighs, releasing his grip on Cas to allow him to pull away slowly.  Dean knows he's definitely going to feel this tomorrow, wincing when Cas leaves him empty to move to the sink in the corner of Dean’s room to clean up.  Dean groans as he rolls onto his belly, stretching out his cramped legs and sighing contentedly as he sinks into the memory foam.

“Dean, you're making a mess on the sheets,” Cas sighs, trailing a warm washcloth over Dean’s backside, carefully cleaning him up.  Dean knows they don't really teach aftercare in porns, but he's to satiated to worry about Cas’ research at the moment.

“I'll change ‘em tomorrow,” Dean slurs.  “And you're the one that made the mess,” he adds with a superior smirk.  Cas finishes whatever he's doing and tosses the cloth in the sink, Dean rolling onto his side long enough for Cas to climb into bed before rolling onto Cas, burying his face in his neck and linking their legs together. 

“Thank you, for sharing that with me,” Cas sighs happily.  Dean presses his lips into Cas’ sweaty skin, unable to say anything, because Cas was right, there really aren't words for a feeling like this.

 

Dean wakes up ridiculously sore, but just as ridiculously happy, wrapped tightly in Cas’ arms, his head pillowed on Cas’ chest.  Cas’ heart is beating under his ear, a steady rhythm that makes Dean smile, turning his face to press kisses against Cas’ warm skin.  Cas groans as he wakes, blinking blearily at Dean through sleep fuzzy eyes.

“Morning,” Dean greets him, pushing himself up onto his elbow to look down at Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” he grunts, stretching his arms over his head before lowering them again, one still resting around Dean’s shoulders.  Dean moves his free hand up to Cas’ jaw, tracing the stubble on his cheek with his thumb.  He's breathtakingly beautiful, even first thing in the morning, and Dean knows without a doubt he's well and truly gone.

“I think you fucking broke me,” Dean chuckles.  Cas’ face immediately narrows in concern.

“Are you hurt?  I thought I was careful-” he starts, but the end of his apology is muffled by Dean’s lips.

“I'm good, Cas.  A little sore but nothing I can't handle,” he reassures him.  “I was referring to my self image.”  Cas just frowns, tilting his head, and Dean laughs again.  “It's a good thing, Cas.  Means I can admit I'm fucking in love with you and not feel like I'm going crazy.”  Cas is quiet for a moment, just looking up at him in wonder before breaking into a huge grin, the biggest smile Dean has probably ever seen on his face.  He sits up planting a kiss on Dean’s forehead before climbing to his feet.

“I'm going to get us something to eat,” he explains, grabbing his sleep pants from the night before and sliding them on.  

“Mmm, breakfast in bed,” Dean hums, “you're spoiling me, Cas.”

“I know you're experiencing some physical discomfort, and I don't want to cause you any more,” Cas explains, turning for the door and leaving before Dean can say anything.  Dean attempts to climb out of bed to head for the bathroom, and yeah, okay, Cas was definitely correct about the whole ‘discomfort’ thing.  He wobbles on his feet as he slides pants on, and maybe he’s walking a little more bow legged down the hall, but he wouldn't have changed a thing about last night.  Figuring since he was already in the bathroom, he might as well shower, he carefully undresses again and turns on the water, leaning on the tile wall while he waits.

“Dean?”  Cas appears in the bathroom doorway, concern on his face again, and Dean chuckles.

“Dude, you can chill with all the worry, Cas, I'm  _ fine _ .  Just need a shower.”

“I would have helped you down the hall,” Cas worries, walking up to Dean.  As soon as he's close enough Dean grabs him and spins, pinning Cas against the wall, his pain momentarily forgotten.

“ _ Helped _ me, Cas?  You make it seem like just because you fucked me last night I'm in need of gentle handling,” he drops his nose under Cas’ jaw, nipping gently at Cas’ neck as Cas’ touch flutters up his arms.

“D-Dean, I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up,” he huffs, sucking a mark into Cas’ collarbone, “get naked and get in the shower, Cas.”  Dean lets him go, and Cas hastily complies, stripping and walking into the shower stall.  Dean hadn't had the opportunity to be much of an active participant the night before, and as he and Cas wash he takes this opportunity to learn Cas’ body, hands roaming over soap slick skin.  Repositioning them, Dean slides behind Cas, pressing their bodies together from thighs to shoulders, his already hard cock folded between them.

“Dean,” Cas moans, sounding utterly helpless, and Dean’s ego swells a bit in his chest.

“S’matter Cas?” he teases, reaching around his torso to wrap his fist around Cas’ cock, sliding slowly from root to tip.  Cas’ head falls back against his shoulder, his chest rising and falling under Dean’s free hand, his heart pounding beneath Dean’s palm where it's pressed into Cas’ chest.  The fact that Dean had the power to make Cas fall apart like this was a little heady, and he started to roll his hips against Cas.  One of Cas’ hands slides behind him to rest on Dean’s hip, the other slides up into his hair.

“Please,” he whines, and Dean presses wet kisses against his neck, flicking his wrist just so.

“Feels different when it's someone else, huh?  Bet your experiments won't help you here,” Dean continues to tease, and Cas just nods helplessly, instinctively rolling his hips against Dean’s cock.

“Come on, Cas, come for me,” Dean purrs into his ear, and Cas goes stiff as he comes, shaking in Dean’s arms, grunting as his body seizes up.  Dean can feel the cocky smile on his face, and subsequently can feel it completely wiped off as Cas spins and drops to his knees, swallowing Dean down without hesitation.  Dean nearly loses his footing, his hands scrambling for purchase against the tile wall behind Cas.  In just a few short minutes Dean is coming down Cas’ throat, too caught up in the moment to warn him.  Cas doesn't seem to mind.  He pushes himself to his feet and Dean presses him against the wall, kissing him lazily until the water goes cold.

They make their way back to Dean’s room, munching on the store bought muffins Cas had brought in earlier, curling up together in Dean’s bed.  Dean puts a movie on, just for background noise, but mostly they're both distracted by the other, Dean watching Cas talk, Cas studying the shape of Dean’s body.  Cas eventually falls asleep, curled up around Dean, and Dean follows him shortly after, with a smile and a whispered  _ I love you. _

 

 

Over the next few days, they move what belongings Cas has into Dean’s room.  It was an easy decision, Dean has the bigger (and better) bed, and Cas had pointed out that Dean had made his room  _ his, _ where the room Cas was using had never felt permanent.

They spend quite a bit of time working out their remaining sexual tension, Dean showing Cas what can't be learned from watching a porn, but it's the in between moments that Dean remembers the most.  Cooking breakfast in their underwear, continuing Cas’ weapons training, philosophically debating movie plots.  They also spend some time copying down what Cas can remember of angel lore, the memories of the knowledge he knew starting to fade the longer he's human.  Cas never shows any sign of regretting his choice, and Dean is finally starting to accept that Cas is there with him to stay.

At the end of their sixth day alone together, Dean is carrying dinner into his room for him and Cas, and Cas is looking at Dean’s phone curiously.

“What is it?” Dean asks, handing him a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Sam called, I didn't get to the phone in time to answer,” Cas explained.  Dean set his own plate down and took the phone, smiling when Cas picked up a sandwich and his eyes widened happily at the gooey cheese.  Sam’s voice on his message is giddy, happy in a way Dean hadn't heard in a long time.

_ "Dean, get to the address I left you.  I...I think I'm getting married." _

 


	14. 14. Áthas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, soooooo HI! I am still writing this *surprised face* I'm so sorry this update took so long but I've been a busy bee adulting and such and yeah.... anyway enjoy! *waves* (Btw the title means "joy")

_Sam_

Sam was nervous.  It had been two days since he'd called his brother about the ceremony, and he was getting eager to get started.

Spending time with the coven, helping them pack and prepare to relocate, hadn't proved to be as distracting as Sam had wanted.  But he enjoyed the work and the ache in his muscles after a day of heavy lifting.  It wasn't terribly different than the ache after a hunt, just a different kind of fatigue and just as gratifying.  

Dean had texted with his ETA the last time they stopped for gas, and with nothing else to do Sam had wandered out to wait for him.  He was barely alone for ten minutes before rustling from behind warned him he wasn't alone.

“Not getting cold feet, are you?” Breda asks, dropping to sit on the tree trunk next to him.

“Nah,” Sam chuckles, “just nerves.”  

“Good,” she nods.  They sit in silence for a couple minutes before she speaks again.  “Will you two come see us when our new village is ready?”

“Are you going to  _ miss  _ me?” Sam teases.  

“No,” she rolls her eyes and huffs a sigh.  “I mean, your funny shaped hair won't be bobbing around over everyone else’s heads, so there's that.”

“Uh huh,” Sam smiles, nudging her with an elbow.  “I'm sure Annika will want to come visit,” he adds on a more serious note.  Breda almost smiles before schooling her face.

“Good.”  They sit in an easy silence until the rumble of the Impala can be heard echoing through the woods.  She raises an eyebrow at Sam but he merely shrugs, pushing to his feet when his brother’s sleek black car pulls to a stop next to his truck at the edge of the wards.

“You weren't kidding when you said this place was hard to find,” Dean complained as he climbed out of the Impala.  Cas climbed out shortly after him, smiling softly at Sam.  Sam waves, his nerves increasing tenfold now that Dean was here.   _ This is happening... _

“Hey, Cas,” Sam greets his friend, noting he needed a bit of a shave.  “Was Dean complaining the whole time?”

“Haha, funny,” Dean grumbles, walking up to Sam and shoving his bag into his arms.  Sam accepts it with a smile, and Dean turns to look over Sam’s shoulder.  Breda is waiting there watching them in bored amusement, and Dean looks her over appraisingly.  

“Dean, this is Breda,” Sam explains.  “Breda, my brother Dean.”

“Charmed,” she sighs.  “Can we go now?”  

“I am quite hungry,” Cas speaks up.  Breda turns for the village and the rest of them fall into step behind her. 

“So, you’re getting married, huh?” Dean asks, stretching his back out as he walks.  

“Not like what you’re thinking,” Sam explains, remembering what a disaster his last “wedding” had been, even if it wasn’t his idea.  “It’s more of a bonding ritual than a normal wedding.  It’s something special to this coven, and since Annika has spent a lot of her life with them, it’s something she wanted to share with me before they moved on.”

“Look at you, getting all sappy in your old age,” Dean teases.  Sam shoves him gently, smirking as they walk through the woods.

“Speaking of sappy, how was your time with Cas?” Sam asks.  

“Shut up,” Dean snaps, his smirk turning into a scowl.

“I enjoyed our time together,” Cas chimes in from behind them, and Sam laughs as Dean turns beet red.

They make their way into the village, and Sam explains to Dean how it used to be before the coven had started packing, the torchlight and the decorated homes.  Dean is begrudgingly impressed, scanning the breadth of the village as they walk towards the main hall.  The usual bonfire is burning out front, and the coven calls out a chorus of greetings as they’re spotted walking towards them.  As the group surrounds them, Sam can see Dean is slightly overwhelmed by all the attention, but Cas is smiling and looks right at home.  

“Relax,” Sam insists, handing Dean and Cas’ bags to Breda who takes them with a small smile.

“I’m surrounded by witches, Sam, how am I supposed to relax?”

“By having a drink and taking a breath,” Annika says from behind Sam.  He feels her hand on his lower back as she approaches, stepping up to his side and leaning on him fondly.  

“Hello, Annika,” Cas says fondly.

“Glad you could make it, Cas,” she replies.  “So what we talked about…?”

“You were correct,” he replied simply.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about me?” Dean grumbles.

“Because we are,” Cas answers easily, and Annika giggles.  Dean glares at the ground, an embarrassed tinge to his cheeks, and Sam knocks his shoulder fondly.  “My apologies if that makes you uncomfortable,” Cas says, a slight frown creasing his brow.  Dean immediately softens.

“Nah, Cas, I get it.  Just embarrassing.”  Dean grabs a hold of Sam’s arm.  “Mind if I borrow the groom for a hot minute?”  He starts tugging before Annika says anything, and Sam shrugs at her as she rolls her eyes and takes Cas’ arm, walking deeper into the group of people around them.

“Before I get started, one word from you about me and Cas and so help me I will kick your ass, Sammy.”

“Dean, I’m happy for you,” Sam sighs, “and that’s all I’m gonna say about the mind bleachingly awful things I’m sure you guys have been doing.”  Dean rubs at the back of his neck, but seems satisfied with Sam’s answer.  He glances back towards the group of people outlined against the bonfire.  Ann is introducing Cas to some of the children, and they’re all looking up at him with awestruck faces.  Cas kneels down to their level, letting a few of them crowd up and latch on with tiny hands.

“So, uh, when does all this start?” Dean asks as the tension in his shoulders relaxes.  He’s watching Cas with a soft look on his face, something Sam hadn’t really seen before, and he knows his brother has it bad.

“Basically right now,” Sam answers.  Dean breaks his gaze away from Cas and blinks a few times before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, jumping right into this, then,” Dean huffs.  He’s not sure why Dean’s stalling, but whatever he pulled Sam aside to talk about must have been important.

“Leaves more time for food and drink tonight,” Sam points out with a laugh, trying to set his brother at ease.  “This coven can throw one hell of a party.”

“Sounds good to me.”  Dean’s face gets thoughtful, and Sam waits while he figures out what he wants to say.  “Look, Sam, I’m sure I could give you some crap about how fast this is all going, or whatever but…” Dean sighs rubbing thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin.

“You okay?” Sam asks.  He knows it’s Dean’s nature to deflect and move on from moments like this, but his brother seems determined this time to actually talk about something.

“Things are going to change, now,” Dean shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.  “You have Ann to take care of, and I have Cas… hunting isn’t going to be as simple as it was before.”  Sam laughs, and Dean frowns, obviously taking offense at Sam’s outburst.

“Dean, I’m amused that you think I’ll be ‘taking care of’ Annika,” Sam explains.  “Even without her powers she’s a better hunter than either of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dean mumbled.

“Not to mention Cas can hold his own.  Give him time and some training and he’ll be a great hunter.”  

“You really think nothing is going to change?” Dean asks, disbelief obvious in his voice.

“No, obviously things are going to change,” Sam says, “but there’s no need for hunting to be one of those things.”  Dean still doesn’t quite look like he believes him, but he shrugs in acceptance.

“Okay then, Sammy.  Let’s get you hitched.”  He pauses, digging his hand into his pocket and holding it out to Sam.  What Sam sees there both breaks his heart and makes it soar.

“Dean...Thanks.”  Dean pulls him into a quick hug, slapping him so hard on the back it hurts, before turning and walking back over to the group.  They’ve just made it back to Ann and Cas when Aislin walks out of the main hall, a hush falling over the crowd that draws everyone’s attention to their little group.  She walks up to them slowly, smiling warmly at Dean as she approaches.

“Dean, this is Aislin, the leader of the coven,” Sam introduces them.  “Aislin, my brother, Dean.”

“Welcome,” she says warmly, reaching out to touch Dean’s cheek.  He doesn’t flinch away, just seems mildly surprised.  “And where is the giver of this gift?” she asks, her eyes falling to the grace dangling from Dean’s neck.  Castiel walks up next to Dean, and she beams at him, both her hands moving to hold Cas’ face.  They stand like that long enough that Dean looks over at Sam and raises an eyebrow at him, but Sam just shrugs.  He’s given up on figuring Aislin out.  Eventually she starts to speak, some of the Celtic words familiar to Sam but not enough for him to translate.  To  _ everyone’s  _ stunned surprise, Cas answers her in the same language, and Sam snorts a laugh when Dean sort of gapes at Cas in an inappropriate way.  “I believe we’re all here for a purpose, yes?” Aislin finally says to the group at large, releasing Cas.  Dean coughs, tearing his eyes away from Cas’ face, but not stopping Cas from taking his hand for a brief moment.

“Yes, please,” Annika grins, sliding her own hand into Sam’s.  He grins at her, bending to place a kiss on her forehead.  Aislin nods at a couple members of the group, and they bring them two torches lit from the bonfire, handing one to Dean and the other to Sam.

“If you will all follow me,” she says with a glint in her eye.  She turns away from the main group, and they all fall into step behind her.

“What is this ceremony going to be like?” Cas asks Annika curiously.  Sam’s heard this a few times before, so he just listens as she talks.

“The actual ceremony in the tradition of Aislin’s coven is very private, just the bride and groom, two witnesses, and the tribe leader.”  She paused to smile fondly at Cas.  “You and Dean will be our witnesses, if you're okay with that.”  Cas’ eyes widen and he blushes slightly.

“Me?  You want me to be part of this?”  She nods, linking her arm with Cas’.

“We both went through our journey to humanity together, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be there.”

“In that case, I am honored,” Cas smiles, standing up a bit taller as they continue towards a tiny shack at the edge of the clearing.

“What, if anything, do Cas and I have to do?” Dean asks curiously.

“Well, the ceremony is done in near silence, so no cheesy vows to recite,” she chuckles.  “The coven believes that words are not enough to convey such powerful emotion, and that since they can also deceive, they are not to be trusted and therefore they have no place in such a ritual.”  The shack is the only building this far out still lit with torches, the rest of the structures abandoned as the coven prepares to move.  The sun is starting to dip low on the horizon, the orange tint to the sky making everything seem a bit more surreal and storybook like.  Especially since Sam knew what they’d find when they got inside.

“But if you don't talk, how do you like, express your vows and stuff?” Dean asks.  Aislin pushes open the door of the shack, revealing an entrance to a shallow cave that she walks into without hesitation.

“Well, normally you use an oathing stone, but since Sam and I don't really have a-”  As they reach the bottom of the slight ramp leading down into the cave, Sam watches with delight as Ann gapes at the place.  There's a plain stone pillar at the center of the far wall in front of a beautiful Celtic carving, both of which looked like they’d been there longer than time itself.  The space is lit by at least ten golden lanterns, glittering as the flames flicker, a personal touch Sam had added a little earlier that afternoon as a surprise.  

“This is quite beautiful,” Cas points out, and Ann turns to face Sam, her eyes wide and bright.

“When did you do this?” she breathes.  Sam shrugs, ducking his head as he smiles.  

“I uh, I couldn't sleep last night,” he admits.  He'd been a nervous wreck after getting Dean’s message that they'd be arriving that day, because he knew that meant the ceremony was happening.  Legally binding or not, Sam had a gut feeling that this would be the last woman he'd ever be with.  He’d been poking around in one of the old buildings when he’d found the lanterns and set to work.

“Wow, Sam, you really have gone chick flick,” Dean laughs.  Sam could kill his brother for ruining the moment, but Annika simply laughs, getting on her tiptoes and pressing a quick kiss against Sam’s cheek.  He smirks at Dean who just rolls his eyes, though he doesn’t quite hide his smile.

“They're wonderful, thank you,” she says softly.  Sam and Dean deposit their torches in holders behind the ‘altar’, Aislin following behind them to stand at the pillar.

“Annika,” she beckons, waving her over.  “Sam,” she calls after.  They walk up to the pillar together, Sam trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.  Annika is in her same flowing dress she wore that first time they came here, the colors shifting just like the firelight that surrounded them.  He’s struck again by how beautiful she is, and a little overwhelmed at the idea that she was  _ his.   _ Sam looks down at the waist high pillar and notices a stone has been set in the small bowl on top, something he  _ didn’t  _ do.  

“What’s this?” he asks, hesitating to pick it up.  Aislin picks it up reverently slow, holding it out between Sam and Annika.  Now that it’s being held up into the light Sam can see intricate patterns and glyphs etched into the stone, swirling and flowing across its surface. 

“An oathing stone,” she explains.  “Carved with Annika’s story, her work, sacrifice, and her deeds.”  Ann gasps as Aislin goes on to explain with a soft smile.  “The stone is from the village where I first met Annika, when I was a little girl.  I saved it from one of the first pyres she lit for us.”

“Aislin…” Annika hugs the woman tightly, and Aislin wipes at her eye before waving her away.

“Now, there will be plenty of time for that after the ceremony,” she chides fondly.  Annika steps back into place, smiling up at Sam. 

“Ready?” she asks him.

“Absolutely,” he responds with a grin.

Aislin closes her eyes and begins to hum, a simple melody that wraps Sam in comfort the moment he hears it.  Sam basks in that comfort until Aislin turns to him, holding the stone out to him.  He and Ann had rehearsed the ceremony together yesterday afternoon, so he reaches out his hands, laying them over the top of the stone and beneath Aislin’s hands.  In the  _ very  _ traditional sense, it’s supposed to symbolize his consent in the presence of all of his ancestors, both living and dead, to bear witness to the vows he brings forward in his heart.  He thinks of his mom and smiles, hoping that wherever she is in heaven she’d somehow know about this someday.  Aislin’s hummed tune changes slightly, and she turns to Ann who adds her hands over the top of Sams’, the same invitation in theory being made to her “ancestors”.  When Sam had expressed his disbelief in Eve caring about Ann’s wedding, she explained that the spirits in the earth and sky would also bear witness.  As unrealistic as the idea was to a seasoned hunter, it was oddly comforting to think about.

Now that they both are holding the stone, Aislin releases the stone, her song changing once again to add words, an old Celtic blessing for the future and happiness of Ann and Sam.  Ann is practically glowing, eyes locked on Sam’s as they lower the stone back into the basin together, Aislin’s song changing to spells of fortune and happiness as she steps down and gracefully moves around them, walking in a full circle until she’s back where she started.  

Then Aislin stops singing, and it’s done.

Ann literally jumps on Sam, kissing him fiercely as he wraps his arms around her waist to hold her up.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips, and he grins, lowering her gently to the floor.

“Love you too, babe,” he whispers back.

“That’s it then?  Sam’s all married?” Dean asks, effectively breaking the silence that had fallen over them.  Sam closes his eyes and drops his forehead to Ann’s but she merely laughs at his annoyance.  Honestly, Sam didn’t really mind, it was a sign that Dean was himself again, no longer caught up in what could go wrong, but accepting what might go right.

“It is done,” Aislin says warmly.  “I’m going to head back to the party.  Castiel, would you mind coming with me?  It’s been years since I’ve been able to speak the old language with anyone.”  Cas beams at her and nods, taking her arm and leading her up the ramp.

“I’m gonna go grab something to eat,” Dean announces.  “Congrats, Sammy.”

“Dean,” Annika stops him, wrapping him up in a hug that Dean obviously wasn’t expecting.  “Thank you for being here.  It means alot to me.”  Hidden in that comment was a  _ thank you for accepting me _ , and Sam’s heart swelled when Dean blushed slightly, awkwardly patting her on the back before quickly running for the exit.  Annika walks up to the altar to pick up the stone, and Sam moves up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing kisses into her hair.

“What do we do with the stone?” he asks.

“I don’t know yet,” she hummed, turning it over in her hand.  “I’ll think on it.”  Sam dropped his kisses to the side of her neck, and she leaned back into him with a happy sigh.  “We have a party to get to, you know.”

“I know, just...one more thing,” Sam insists, pulling the little package Dean had brought him out of his pocket.  He opens the ring box and takes out his mom’s engagement ring.  Their dad had carried it around after the fire, she hadn’t been wearing it that night, just her wedding band, and Dean had found it in the Impala after John died.  Sam grabs Annika’s hand and slides the ring on, kissing her finger once it’s in place.

“Is this your mom’s?” she asks softly.

“Yeah.  It was uh, it was actually Dean’s idea.”  Sam grins as she holds it up to the light to look at it, holding her close.

“Tell him thank you, whenever it’s bro enough to do so,” she giggles.  Sam turns her around gently and pulls her in for a kiss, cradling her face in his hand.

“Let’s go join this party.”

 

******

_ SIx months later _

 

“Dean?!” Sam calls into the bunker.  “Dean, come on you said you wanted to be on the road by noon!”  Sam tries not to think about what might be keeping his brother, hoping he simply, innocently, slept in that morning.  Kevin glances up from the book he’s reading, an  _ actual  _ book for once to glare at Sam before putting his headphones on.

The past months had been fairly ‘normal’ for the Winchesters, just a few simple hunts that kept them occupied enough not to get cabin fever, though they quickly realized they didn’t need all four of them on a hunt together.  They’d set up a rotating schedule for who would take the hunts, Dean and Cas, then Sam and Ann, then Dean and Sam, then Cas and Ann.  A small vampire-esque disturbance had flared up in Wyoming, and it was Sam and Dean’s turn to take this one.

Cas, as it turns out, even though he was completely human, did retain some of his angelic skills.  He had a knack for languages still, and he could still see someone’s soul, though Cas had described it as ‘ _ looking at a distant star when his whole life he’d been looking at the sun.’ _  Dean still wore his grace around everywhere, and Sam began to realize that necklace for them symbolized the same thing as the ring he’d given to Annika.

Ann wanders out into the library with a cup of tea, pausing to give Sam a quick kiss before climbing up on the table.  

“Don’t worry, it was quiet when I walked by their room,” Ann teases with a smirk. 

“Then what’s taking him so long?”

“He apparently wants a haircut, and he does not trust me to help,” Cas mutters as he walks out into the library to join them.  Sam would say Cas was  _ almost  _ pouting.  “He enlisted Charlie’s help, and I believe they’ve been spending most of their time arguing.”

“I’m sorry I’m missing it,” Ann laughs.  Sure enough, Dean and Charlie come walking out into the map room, bickering back and forth.

“You’ve had the same haircut forever, you could at least change it a little bit,” she pouts.

“It’s my damn hair, Charlie,” Dean snaps, running his hand through his slightly shorter hair, “you can help me trim it without nagging me about it.”  Dean walks up to Cas, knocking his knuckle against his cheek gently before gathering up his bag.  Sam found it amusing how little PDA his brother used when he knew Sam was looking, considering the amount of hand holding and thigh grabbing Sam noticed when Dean thought he  _ wasn’t  _ looking.

“You ready now?” Sam scoffs.

“Shut up.”  Dean lifts his bag onto his shoulder with a glare.

“Be safe,” Ann says as Sam leans in to capture her lips in a brief kiss.

“Always,” he chuckles.

“Before you go, Sam, I just want to say congratulations.”  Everyone in the room, including Kevin, turns to stare at Cas.

“For what?” Sam wonders.  

“The pregnancy of course, I thought you would be pleased.”  Cas’ head tilts to the side slightly, like he’s genuinely surprised Sam isn’t aware of this.

_ Wait _ …

Sam’s brain catches up to what Cas just said, and his heart rate doubles instantly, sending blood to his cheeks and leaving him short of breath.  Annika is choking on her tea, sputtering into her cup.

“Oh shit,” Charlie breathes.

“Pregnancy?!” Sam, Anna, and Dean shout at the same time.  Something like hope flares in Sam’s chest, and he turns to Annika who looks completely shocked.

“Did...did you not know?” Cas asks sheepishly.

“Cas, I can’t get pregnant,” Annika says slowly.  “It’s just not possible for me.”

“When you were a phoenix,” Cas corrects her.  “But by the way you’re soul is glowing, I’d say that’s a possibility for you now.”

Silence hangs thick in the air for a moment, everyone in the room trying to process the news they’d all just been given.  Annika looks up at Sam with wide eyes, most of the color drained out of her face, and Sam knows he probably looks a hot mess, too.

“I’m going to go do...something,” Charlie says, awkwardly turning for the bedrooms.

“I’m going to go help her,” Kevin adds quickly, following quickly behind her.

“Cas, you’re with me,” Dean snaps, grabbing his duffle and storming off for the garage, Cas hurrying after him looking guilty and confused.  

Sam is suddenly alone with Ann and his heart is pounding hard enough to break his ribs.

Annika is  _ pregnant?! _  His brain starts running at 200 mph, possibility after possibility passing by one right after the other.

“Sam...I...I’m sorry,” she mutters, bringing those thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Sorry?” he wonders.  “Why are you sorry?”

“If I had known I could- we should have been more careful!”

“Annika, we had no way of knowing,” Sam tried to soothe her, but she shied away from his outstretched hand.  “We can figure this out-“

“Figure it out?!  We can’t bring a baby into the life we live!” she snapped, and Sam can see she’s working herself into a panic.  

Sam makes a decision, right then on the spot, and he’s surprised how easy it is for him.

“Then we stop hunting,” he says simply.  Annika blinks at him like he’s growing five heads.

“Just stop.  Just like that.” she repeats in disbelief.

“Just like that,” he agrees.  She scoffs and rolls her eyes and Sam gently grabs her shoulder.  “Dean’s done it, I did it for a little while, it’s possible.”

“But for how long?” she wonders.  “Sam, you of all people know how this life catches up to you.  Look at your mom,” she adds gently, arms hugging her stomach tightly.  “Sure we can stop hunting but how long till the life comes back to haunt us?  Maybe literally?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Sam sighs.  She raises an eyebrow.  “I’m serious.  We’ll get a house, I’ll get a job, we’ll be sure to get a legitimate birth certificate.”  Sam loosens her arms, taking her hands and tugging fondly.  “I’m willing to try and figure this out.”  She leans forward resting her head on his chest.

“I have no fucking clue what to do with this,” she sighed.  “I’ve never thought about it at all.”

“My childhood consisted of my dad’s drunken ramblings about monsters and actual monsters, it’s not like I have any ‘normal’ parenting experience to pull from,” Sam sighs.  She blinks furiously, trying not to show how close she is to crying, so Sam gently pulls her by the hand until they’re in their room.  He knows her, he knows she hates being weak, being reminded that she can’t do everything alone, so he simply turns on Netflix, crawling into bed and waiting for her to join him.  Which eventually she does, curling up on his chest on the pretense of watching tv with him.

Sam’s phone buzzes, and he glances at it to see a text from Dean, letting him know he called another hunter to take care of the vamps.  Sam smiles, relieved that his brother stayed because they definitely needed to talk.

It takes a couple hours, but Annika does eventually start to cry, silent sobs making her body shake where she’s curled up to his side, her tears leaving a damp spot on his shirt.  Sam just holds her and lets her get it out, until she’s finally breathing normally again.

“I’m scared,” she sniffs, the words muffled into his chest.

“Me too,” Sam sighs.  “But if anyone can do this, I bet it’s me and you.”  She nods and eventually falls asleep with her arm wrapped tightly around Sam.

_ I can do this,  _ Sam thinks to himself, smiling at the ceiling.   _ I’m gonna be a dad. _

 


	15. 15. A Simple Kind of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am the worst author in the world but I've finally done it- I finally finished the FINAL chapter in this story! I'm so sorry it took me so long but the lead up to SPNHON plus busy season at work made my writing life very difficult. Anyway I hope this last chapter is fulfilling to you guys, it's been a pain getting it out, but like Chuck said, "Endings are hard, but then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?" 
> 
> That's right, I'm ALREADY entrenched in another couple AU's that I will hopefully start publishing soon!! 
> 
> Thank you everyone who stuck with me through this, it means the world to me that people continue to read and enjoy my stories <3 See you next time!

_ Dean _

  
  


“I didn’t mean...I thought she knew,” Cas mutters, his guilt obvious on his face as he and Dean make their way towards the garage.

“It’s alright,” Dean shrugs.  It was a  _ shock,  _ but that was to be expected however he heard the news.

“But she was so upset, I didn’t-“ Cas continues to fret.

“Cas,” Dean interrupts, stopping short and making Cas walk right into him.  He looks up at Dean and flinches away, and Dean wonders how stressed he must look at the moment.  Dean takes a deep breath and tried to calm nerves he hadn’t realized he was feeling.

Sam was having a kid.  Well, not Sam, technically, but he was going to be a Dad, and Dean was going to be an uncle and holy  _ shit _ .  This wasn’t something he had every thought to prepare for, it wasn’t something that was going to be in the cards for either of them.  Now...

“Dean,” Cas says quietly, “are you okay?”  Dean stares straight ahead, the door to the garage in view, and tries to answer that question.  He wants to go, just go hunt the vamps like normal, share a couple beers and some adrenaline fueled sex with Cas afterwards and forget all about this…

But that wouldn’t solve anything, and he knows it.  Dean briefly wonders if being with Cas these few months has changed him more than even  _ he _ realized.  

Dean takes a deep breath and pulls his phone out of his pocket, sending a text alert about the vamps to the hunter phone tree Charlie had set up, and sliding his phone back in his pocket.  

“Dean?” Cas asks again, and Dean turns back to face him.

“Sorry, Cas, looks like we’re not going on that hunt after all,” he huffs.  Cas looks confused, and Dean reaches out to pat his cheek, trying to be reassuring.  “It’s your fault I’m all in touch with my emotions and shit.  I better stick around and help Sam figure this shit out.”

“I don’t regret it,” Cas says firmly, almost smiling.  Dean leads the way back to their room, sending his brother a quick text about the hunt being off, and starts to unpack his duffle.  Cas removes his shoes and reclines on the bed, and it’s amusing to Dean how Cas has truly settled into Dean’s space, like he finally knows where he belongs.

“So, Ann’s gonna have a kid,” Dean sighs.

“Yes, Annika’s soul was glowing with new life,” Cas says with a soft smile, and Dean rolls his eyes at the poetic turn of phrase.

“That’s going to change things,” Dean admits, looking towards the photo of his mom sitting on his desk.  He thinks about how his mother had tried to settle down with John, how she’d brought him and Sam into the world and the life had caught up to her, taking her life and altering theirs forever.  “It changes everything,” he breathes.  

The one thing he knew for sure was he couldn’t ask Sam to raise his child in this life.  The bunker, surrounded by weapons and the supernatural and everything that comes with it, was no place to raise a child, but he couldn’t ask Sam not to be involved in the kid’s life either, and that meant...

That meant Sam needed to go.

The realization doesn’t hit him as hard as he expected it to.  Instead, it almost feels like he was waiting for it to catch up to him, and now that it has it’s lost the power to overwhelm him.  He puts the rest of his things away and kicks his shoes off, crawling onto the mattress in the space Cas left for him.  They lay there in the quiet for a moment, side by side, and Dean sighs dramatically, rolling over to tuck himself against Cas’ side, his head resting on his chest.  He feels Cas chuckle beneath him, and Dean lightly kicks his leg.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles.  Cas doesn’t say anything, and Dean can’t help his own smile from spreading across his cheeks.  Okay, so maybe he’s taken a liking to cuddling since he and Cas moved in together.  Sue him.  Cas wraps an arm around him, fingers trailing slowly over his back in soothing circles as Dean thinks things through, Cas’ heart beating steadily beneath his ear.  

Sam was going to need a place to live, and Charlie would need to set their criminal records straight.  Not to mention Sam should get a legitimate ID… did Ann have one she could use?  Sam would obviously take one of the cars in the garage, but none of them were terribly new and baby safe.  What about the doctor’s visits for the baby, all the hospital bills were sure to pile up.  What kind of a job would they be able to get him?  He didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in any sort of real world job-

“Dean,” Cas sighs, interrupting Dean’s downward spiral of panic.  “You’re thinking way too much.”  Dean relaxes his vice like grip on Cas, taking a couple deep breaths to try and slow his racing heart.

“There’s a lot to think about,” Dean mutters.  Cas shifts further onto his side so he can pull Dean even closer, wrapping both arms around him tightly.  Dean closes his eyes and burrows into Cas’ chest.

“And there’s six of us here to think through them together,” Cas points out, dropping his chin to the top of Dean’s head.  

“This is Sam, it’s always been my job to take care of him,” Dean speaks against Cas’ chest.  “How can I take care of him if he’s not here?”

“You’ll figure that out,” Cas says gently.  “There’s eight months to plan and prepare for all of this, to talk to Sam.  There’s  _ time _ .”  Dean sighs, not wanting to be persuaded by Cas’ logic.

“I just...want them to be alright,” he mutters into the quiet bedroom.

“They will be,” Cas breathes into Dean’s hair, his lips brushing against his scalp.  

“How can you be sure?”  

“I can’t, I suppose,” Cas hums, “but I have faith in you, and after all these years, I think that counts for something.”  Dean feels his chest constrict suddenly, his breath catching in his throat as an old fear rears its ugly head, trying to undermine everything Dean’s been through.  Dean pushes on Cas’ shoulder until he’s rolling over the top of Cas and pressing him into the mattress with his hips.   _ This  _ Dean is familiar with, and something he can easily handle.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, burrowing into Cas’ neck and starting in on what he hopes will be an impressive hickey.  Cas breathes out a sigh, and Dean nips at his skin with his teeth, taking it as encouragement.  Cas’ hands make their way under Dean’s flannel overshirt, continuing on under his tshirt until they’re running over the skin underneath.  Eager to get started in on Cas and ignore everything else, Dean pushes himself off the bed and moves across the room, locking the door and turning off the light before stripping out of his shirts as he walks back to the bed.  In the light coming in under the door, Dean can see Cas is now sitting up, an eyebrow raised in judgement of where Dean’s thoughts are going.  Dean ignores it.

“Dean-“

“I said shut up, Cas,” he grumbles, grabbing hold of Cas’ shirt and tugging it off over his head, climbing into Cas’ lap and rolling his hips forward.  

“I just thought you might wish to talk about-“

“I don’t want to  _ talk  _ about anything,” Dean growls, tugging hard on Cas’ hair to tilt his head back, returning to the light bruise that’s starting to form on Cas’ neck.

“Dean- _ ngh, _ ” Cas groans as Dean shifts his lips up to the curve of his jaw.  “You can't avoid this forever,” Cas manages to get out, and Dean stops, dropping his head to rest against Cas’ shoulder.   _ Fuck  _ he should know better than to try and hide anything from Cas.  

“I know,” he says quietly.  Dean’s world is crumbling around him, everything except for the person he’s currently holding in his arms, and everyday he’s still so afraid he’ll lose him, too.  Swallowing his pride has gotten easier in the past couple months, but it’s still hard for Dean to get the words out.  “I need you, Cas,” he mouths into the skin where Cas’ neck and shoulder meet.  “I’m so fucking anxious about this whole mess I just… I need to know that I won’t lose you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes, his hands resting on Dean’s hips.  

“I’ve got to let Sam go now and I...I just...I can’t be in this alone,” he admits in a rush of breath, his nose pressed into Cas’ neck.  “I can’t do any of this alone.”  

“Nothing will take me from you, not so long as I’m drawing breath.”  Cas’ lips press against his shoulder, sealing his promise with a gentle kiss.  “What do you need from me to prove that to you?”

“I need this,” Dean whimpers, cheeks flushed as he makes himself say the words.  “I just need to feel you.”  Dean feels Cas’ hands slide up his back, squeezing his shoulders tightly and tugging him close.

“I think I can do that.”  Cas presses his nose and lips against Dean’s cheek and jaw, making him lift his head so he could capture Dean’s lips.  It’s soft, Cas applying a gentle pressure that is so unlike the usual fire between two of them, and Dean relaxes into it, his arms wrapping loosely around Cas’ shoulders.  The longer it lasts the more Dean releases the tension in his body, the more he lets go of everything he’s ever been taught about being strong and not needing someone to take care of him.  He lets go of everything that he’s supposed to be and thankfully Cas is there to catch what’s left.

Cas’ hands and kisses are gentle, handling Dean like something precious.  Dean would usually shy away from being treated like this, making a joke or nipping at Cas to tease him into something more rough, but this time he doesn’t, he just closes his eyes and lets Cas do what he wants, move him how he wants, touch him how he wants.  Cas has him laid out on his stomach, their now naked bodies pressed together from shoulders to knees, his eyes closed as he gives himself over to the man above him.  Cas reaches between them to press slick fingers against his entrance and Dean doesn’t even remember him getting the lube, but his body is so relaxed it doesn’t take long for him to accept the intrusion.  

Cas’ every exhale is a prayer, the things he’s saying with his touch speaking louder than any words would have.  He opens Dean slowly, so gentle and patient that Dean doesn’t feel any pain.  He doesn’t even tense as Cas slides into him, wrapping an arm around his chest and tugging him close.

“I love you,” Cas whispers into his neck, rolling his hips but hardly separating from Dean, a steady friction at just the right angle.  He continues to whisper in enochian, holding Dean as close as possible as he moves against him, hand pressed into Dean’s chest, until the pleasure spikes and Dean is coming, Cas following shortly after.  They lay still like that for a long time, completely intertwined together in body and soul, until final Dean starts to talk.

Every fear he’s ever had about Sam being away, about what it would mean if they ever had children or tried to love someone, is spilling out of him in sharp honesty.  Castiel doesn’t judge him, doesn’t explain to Dean how his fears are unfounded, but takes every situation Dean can come up with and logically walks Dean through possible outcomes, good and bad.  Even when Dean brings up a point that can't be denied, Cas doesn’t feed him some false platitudes or vague non answers, he simply admits that there is no good answer.  Dean talks for hours, until his throat is sore and Cas uses his mouth to quiet him, taking in all of Dean’s fear through the gentle movement of his lips.

By the time Dean falls asleep, he has a game plan to help Sam finally do what he’s always wanted to do- be free of the hunter’s life.

 

*****

 

It took the better part of eight months, but they were finally finished.  Dean tossed the bag of trash in the old metal can next to the mailbox and stood back, grinning up at the modest three bedroom house with pride, not even bothered by the amount of sweat his skin was soaked in.

“Lookin’ good,” Jody says, walking up next to Dean and setting her hands on her hips proudly.  After the incident with Crowley, he and Sam had kept in contact with Jody Mills, and her work helping them build the hunter network had made her not only an invaluable ally, but a close friend.

“That it is,” Dean agrees.  The house was mostly a light blue color, with darker blue accents on the windows and doors, and a red chimney sticking up out of the roof.  Sam had joked the red white and blue look of the place had really made him “all-American” now.  They’d chosen South Dakota, mostly because Jody could easily get Sam a job at her Sheriff's Department, and it was still a close enough drive from the bunker that Dean didn’t feel he was too far away.  Charlie had managed to find a copy of Sam’s original birth certificate and social security card, and had also managed to make something up for Annika.  Jody feigned ignorance when it came to removing Sam and Dean’s criminal records, but Dean had an affectionate inkling she had helped.  

The house when they’d found it was practically unlivable, but Kevin had found a decent financial loophole, and after selling some of the harmless antiques scattered around the bunker (including all those cars), there was enough cash to buy the house for the dirt cheap price Kevin had negotiated, as well as pay for renovations and set aside some savings for emergencies.  Every wall was torn out, creature proof warding placed inside before it was re-built, with more spells and wards etched into every support beam, floorspace, and around the property.  Doorknobs and fixtures were made of silver they’d collected and melted down, or were at least silver plated.  Cas had helped by including every enochian spell he knew, and without demons there really wasn’t much else to worry about.

“You seriously need a shower,” Jody coughed after a moment, laughing when Dean checked himself and realized, yeah, she was definitely right.  They’d just finished laying the last of the tile in the foyer that morning, and with that, the last of Sammy’s house was complete.  The two of them made their way inside the back door, kicking their shoes off and joining the others indoors.

“Dude, you reek,” Ann hacks as Dean walks in, hand resting on her swollen belly.

“Gee, you’re welcome for helping with the house,” Dean scoffed.  

“Don’t give me that you would have helped regardless if we wanted you to or not.”  She laughs as Dean struggles with a witty comeback, and he eventually gives up in favor of chugging a glass of water.  Jody wanders off into the living room, leaving Dean and Annika alone for the moment.  “So, catching baby fever?” she asks, and not for the first time.  

“You know, Sam can ask me himself if he’s worried, he doesn’t have to hide behind you.”

“This time it really is me,” she insists.  Sam, worried that once he started to settle down Dean would start to feel jealous and want the same, had been hinting at Dean about wanting a child of his own for a couple months, but Dean’s answer was the same every time.

“Nah, I’m good.  I’m happy with what I got, and I don’t see that changing.”  He knew for certain just having Cas and the open road, he’d never need anything else.  Sam walked in, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair still damp from a shower.

“Oh, hey.  If you hurry, you can catch Cas before he uses all the hot water,” Sam teases.  Dean frowns, grumbling about  _ privacy  _ but scoots upstairs to the bathroom anyway, ignoring the laughter of his family behind him.

He pushes open the guest bathroom door without knocking, locking it behind him and stripping out of his sweaty clothes.  The room is steamy and damp, and he can just make out the form of Cas behind the shower door.

“You know, I find it amusing that you used to admonish me about the importance of personal space when we met,” Cas sighs as Dean slides in behind him, pressing kisses against his shoulder as he grabs the shampoo.

“I’m simply saving water,” Dean shrugs innocently, washing his hair and leaning around Cas to rinse as Cas runs a soapy washcloth over his own skin.

“Hmm,” Cas hums in disbelief.  Dean manages to steal a kiss from his lips before grabbing the body wash and scrubbing himself down.  As much fun as shower sex could be, with everyone downstairs he knew nothing was actually going to happen.  “While I was waiting for Sam to finish his shower, I think I found a case.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, switching places with Cas to rinse off.

“Strange death in Stillwater, Minnesota,” Cas nods.  “According to the news report a competitive eater died after a hotdog eating contest.  He was attacked in his car, and shrunk from 300lbs to 90lbs.”

“Hmm, sounds promising,” Dean nods.  He finishes washing and shuts the water off, taking just a small moment to press Cas against the damp tile and kiss him soundly.

“Mmm, I’ve already spoken to the sheriff, a Donna Hanscom,” Cas continues, undeterred as Dean nips along his chin and throat.  “She seemed rather pleasant.”

“I’m sure she is,” Dean sighed, giving in and letting Cas go.  “We’ll catch a quick lunch with these guys like planned and head out, sound good?”

“You betcha,” Cas answered.  Dean just blinked at him a few times in confusion, and Cas shrugged, a shy smile on his face.  “It’s what the sheriff kept saying.”  Dean laughed, kissing Cas hard on the mouth before climbing out of the shower so they could both dry off.

“You’re still you,” he sighs fondly.

“Of course I am, who else would I be?”  This time Dean can hear the smirk in Cas’ voice, and the two of them both start to laugh, hurrying down to the guest room to dress and head back downstairs.

Jody and Kevin had put together a meal for everyone, pan fried chicken with roasted potatoes and broccoli, and when Dean and Cas came back downstairs they were in the process of serving it out to everyone.  Charlie and Sam were tucked in a corner debating over something on Charlie’s iPad, and Cas made his way over to Annika to sit in the chair beside her, his hand resting on her belly as they talked quietly.

This was it.  He’d finally found his ideal life, his brother was happy and safe, he had Cas, he had the hunt, and he had his family.  He could practically hear Bobby rolling his eyes and calling him an idjit from heaven, and Dean smirked at the thought.

“I get it now, Bobby.  Family don’t end in blood, but it doesn’t start there, either.”

“Dean?” Jody called, distracting him from the beautifully domestic scene laid out in front of him.  “You going to come join us?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly.  He locks eyes with Castiel and smiles.

Yeah, this, this he could  _ definitely  _ get used to.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to comment! Thank you for reading!


End file.
